There’s no logical reason why it should bother me to hear that, and yet, it feels unsettling.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” I tell her, putting my hand on her leg. “You’re right. It was a pointless question.”
She glances down at where I’m touching her, then shrugs as she looks back up at me. “I’d like to think I’ll be able to have both. But who know ifthat’s true. So I guess I’d rather not think about it until I have a reason to. Until I find someone who loves me the right way, who wants to stick around no matter what the public’s opinion of me is at any given time. Until I fall in love with someone who’s actually right for me...”
Something unseen hangs in the air between us as her words trail off.
She slowly reaches down and laces her fingers with mine where they rest above her knee. I flip my hand so I can give hers a squeeze. I want to assure her that shewillfind that love. But I know it can’t be me, and at the same time, I don’t want to think about it being someone else.
I don’t want to picture some future, unknown person out there loving her the way she deserves to be loved, while I’m still here, living my ordinary life without her around. And I don’t know what to do with this startling realization.
“So anyway,” she says, dropping my hand but offering me a smile instead. “I had fun today. Thank you for doing this with me.”
“I had fun too,” I tell her. Because I did.
She doesn’t say anything else, but she makes no move to get out of the car. I almost offer to walk her inside, because it seems like the polite thing to do. But we don’t need anyone seeing us and getting nosy. And it’s not like this was a date.
After a few seconds, she unclips her seatbelt. Then she leans over the console and into my space. Her eyes are hesitant, but as I start to lean in closer, she bridges the gap, her hand coming up to grab my shoulder as she kisses me. I can almost taste the summer sunshine on her lips.
When she ends the kiss and settles back in her seat, she smooths out the bottom of her dress. “Sorry,” she says, biting at her lip before releasing it a second later. “I don’t know if that was okay.”
“It was more than okay. I can’t imagine I’d ever object to being kissed by you, Strawberry. You have my permission to do that whenever you want.”
She lets out a pleased little laugh. “I think I’ll be taking you up on that.”
I give her a grin. “Looking forward to it.”
And then she surprises me by leaning in and kissing me again. Before I can think better of it, I’m grabbing for her hips and urging her over the console and onto my lap. I slide my hand up her back and then into her hair, burying my fingers in the long, wavy strands. Her thighs are spread on either side of mine, and I’m sure if I looked, I’d get a peek at her underwear, her short dress useless at protecting her modesty in this position. But she certainly doesn’t seem to care.
She has one hand pressed flat to my collarbone and the other curled around my waist as she continues to kiss me like oxygen means nothing to her. She explores my mouth with her tongue, and I explore the soft skin of her inner thighs, my fingers light and teasing.
The sweetest little sounds start spilling from her, and I want to take her upstairs to her guest room, get her undressed, and see how many more sounds I can pull from her throat. I want to see if I can make her scream with pleasure.
But we are, in fact, still in my car parked in the inn’s lot where anyone could see us. And while it’s flattering that she seems to be forgetting this, I don’t want us to do anything that might jeopardize her career. The media and her fans already got themselves in a tizzy over catching her kissing a woman once. If she’s caught again, I doubt even the best publicist in the business will be able to convince everyone that she’s as straight as people apparently want her to be.
I’m not sure if she’s going to take that route, claiming she’s still straight. And, truthfully, I don’t think she’ll be happy if she does. But it should be her decision.
So I force myself to separate my lips from hers and try to catch my breath. Her lips are shiny with spit, tempting me to pull her back down for more, but I don’t.
Everything since last night has been a whirlwind, and she probably needs more time to process it. And I’ve left Freddie alone for a day and ahalf now. He has his automatic feeder and water fountain, so I know he’s fine, but I’m sure he’s not happy with me.
“I should get home,” I say reluctantly, cupping her face and running my thumb along her cheekbone. “Check on my cat.”
She presses her cheek into my hand for a second before nodding and crawling off my lap. She tugs at the hem of her dress again, then opens the passenger door and steps out of the car. But instead of closing it, she leans her face back inside. “I’ll see you later?” she asks.
I smile. “You know where to find me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RILEY
AsIcreeppastthe inn’s lobby, trying to make it to the kitchen without being spotted, I feel a bit ridiculous. But is this more or less ridiculous than the way I’ve been sitting on the inn’s front porch all evening because I wasn’t sure exactly what time Addison would be finished working today?
At least while I was waiting for her, I worked out a few new melodies on my guitar. I don’t have any lyrics for them yet, which is the opposite of the way I normally write songs. But lately, I’ve been hearing music in my head that won’t leave me alone, humming melodies as I go about my days. And getting the chords down on guitar helped scratch the itch in my brain.
I’ve found myself wanting to sing about sunflower fields and eating juicy strawberries on warm summer days. I want to sing about exploration, about soft skin and curves, and brown eyes that always seem to understand you.
But I don’t think I can. Not if I’m trying to write songs for my next album and keep my record label happy.
