I don’t know what to think about how he’s looking at me. My heart rate kicks up, but not in a good way. Not in an excited way.
It’s more like my brain and my heart have suddenly realized that my mouth is getting us into trouble. Suddenly nervous, I blurt, “I should go.”
Reid stands, too. “Don’t.”
I still, hands clenching in front of me, and meet his gaze.
My breath catches. What am I doing here?
If I stay, this is dangerous, reckless territory.
The angel on my right shoulder tells me I need to leave. She’s urging me to get the hell out of here before I make a mistake. But the voice on my left? The little devil who, in my mind’s eye, is Sasha wearing a little red devil-horns headband and speaking with a Zsa Zsa Gabor accent, says, “Why leave? So you can run back to that man who rejected you?”
I look over at Reid. He’s beautiful. And smart. And, apparently, he’s both funny and emotionally intelligent enough to communicate his desires. And he wants me tostay.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I really can’t.”
I make it less than a step before Reid stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Wait,” he whispers.
I turn back to face him. His hand is still on my arm, warm on my skin.
His touch isn’t demanding. I don’t feel manhandled or controlled. If I pull away from him, he’ll let me go. So why don’t I?
He pulls me to him with a gentle tug, his free hand moving up to cup my cheek. His gaze meets mine, the question in his eyes obvious. He doesn’t ask permission to kiss me. Not out loud, at least. But I see the question in his gaze. I have time to stop him before his mouth lowers to mine, but I don’t.
Reid’s lips are warm on mine as his hand drops to my hip, pulling me closer.
As kisses go, it’s not unpleasant. It’s not bad. It’s not offensive or invasive.
But it’s not magical either. It’s just a kiss. Just one body part touching another.
I feel no zing of awareness. No spark of desire. No urge to deepen the kiss. No want.
I pull away from him, breaking off the kiss. Stunned by what I’ve done by letting him kiss me. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at him.
Then, I turn and flee.
chaptereighteen
I slipdown the stairs and make it nearly to the patio when I pause, pressing my hand to my chest, as if I can force my heart rate to slow by squeezing my heart. Then, trying to look like I wasn’t just flirting with my boss on the roof, I round the corner and go down the last few steps.
I stop short when I see Keegan is standing by one of the open bar stations, ordering a drink ... with Selah plastered to his side.
She’s got a hand wrapped around his arm in a way that presses her exposed cleavage to his arm. As I watch, she leans even closer and whispers something in his ear. Because she’s tall and willowy, she doesn’t even have to rise up on her toes to do it. Her lips are right at ear level. Like some trickster god designed her specifically to torture me with the image of her whispering in his ear. Probably planning more trips to the exotic places in the Caribbean.
That’s probably where she got so tan. I bet she’s the kind of person who does yoga on the beach while she’s on vacation instead of drinking cheap rum cocktails like a normal person.
Of course, the only time I’ve ever laid on a beach was back in college when I drove down to South Padre for a weekend and all I could afford was cheap rum cocktails. So what do I know?
But none of this petty nonsense is actually productive, so I cut off my train of thought before I can spiral any deeper. Besides, he clearly wanted me here to serve as a buffer. Me getting all pissy and butt hurt because I wanted it to be more isn’t exactly helpful.
So I gird my emotional loins and walk straight up to them. “Hey, Keegan. I found you!”
I make it sound like I’d merely wandered off instead of fled to regroup emotionally.
Keegan glances at me without quite meeting my gaze. Selah gives me a feline smile. “Oh, hey, you’re back from your little jaunt up to the roof. Did you enjoy the view?”
