Eight years.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Lynx had made these rocking chairs eight years ago.
Back around the time when I was eighteen years old.Old enough for…
“Why?”I asked.
Another shrug.
“Why’d you stay away?”That was a question I'd wanted him to answer for so long.
“You were too young,” he grumbled.
I knew that.I had been young.Not that I'd liked that conclusion when I'd come to it all those years ago.In fact, I had convinced myself that Lynx hadn’t really wanted me in the first place.My irrational brain wouldn’t allow me to believe he’d kept his distance because I was underage.
Unable to help myself, I reached out and touched him.I gently caressed the side of his face, the rough rasp of his stubble abrading my palm and sending a shiver down my spine.I had wanted to do this for so long, the memory of that long-ago night slamming into me.The same emotion, the same urgent need, fizzed under my skin, thrumming in my blood.
Something about Lynx made my body heat, every cell hypersensitive, eager for him to touch me again.It’d always been like that.But he had rejected me so easily, made me feel as though I wasn’t worth his time.Then again, Lynx hadn’t actually done anything to make me feel that way, aside from keeping his distance, but I had allowed the irrational thoughts to grow roots, to become the truth.In return, I'd put that much-needed space between us, refusing to think on it too much.
“Why didn’t you give them to me?”I probed.“And don’t tell me you don’t know.”I narrowed my eyes.“I know you, Lynx Caine.You don’t forget anything.”
“Because you were with Billy.”
The way he said it, the gravelly rasp of his voice had my belly fluttering.Although I'd insisted that he give me space until his divorce was final, I couldn’t seem to fight the overwhelming urge to close the distance between us.And what was another day, anyway?I had waited ten freaking years for this.
“Reagan…”
The way he said my name was a warning, I knew.
I ignored it.
Sliding my hand behind his neck, I urged him down toward me, our eyes locked together until my eyes crossed from his nearness.At that point, I let my eyelids lower and leaned in, pressing my lips to his.
Warm, soft.
And Jesus, he smelled so good.Like laundry detergent and soap.
Lynx didn’t kiss me back.In fact, he didn’t move.I could feel the tension in his entire body.
Pulling back slightly, I forced my eyes open only to find his were closed.
“Why won’t you kiss me?”
“Because I promised,” he whispered as his eyes opened and he focused on me.
I studied him momentarily, allowing my gaze to bounce from his lips to his eyes, then back again.
“But you want to?”I had to ask; I needed to know.
“More than anything,” he rasped.
Holding his gaze for another second, I let that sink in.If he wanted me and I wanted him…
“Fuck that promise,” I murmured before grabbing him roughly and jerking him toward me.
This time Lynx didn’t resist, and the second his mouth was on mine, my world lit up like the Fourth of July back in the day when the only thing that mattered was shooting bottle rockets and lighting up the sky, my body buzzing like that one time my brother dared me to stick a fork into the electrical socket in our kitchen.
