And all I can think to do is hug him, so that’s what I do.
He hugs me back like a man grabbing onto a life preserver.
When we finally pull back out of the hug, his lips accidentally brush my ear. We freeze just looking at each other in this confusing yet electric moment.
His mouth crashes into mine. Salted caramel and whiskey suddenly assault my senses. The perfect mix. I gasp into his mouth, and he strategically uses my shock to deepen the kiss in a way that has my entire body shaking. God, he’s so warm.
My free hand slides up his chest while my other arm wraps around his neck, pulling him down for more. With a guttural moan, he backs me up into my apartment and slides his hands up my sides until he suddenly stops right before grazing my breasts.
He tears his mouth away from me and stumbles back, leaving me standing in the middle of my apartment with swollen lips. “Sorry. I’m sorry…about everything, just…sorry.”
And just like that, he leaves, shutting my door behind him.
The spoon once again clatters to the floor. What was that? Was he drunk? Hallucinating? I still don’t know what just happened, and then my phone goes off with a text.
My mouth is buzzing. The spoon is still on the floor. And Ashton thinks I’m either having sex or I got kidnapped.
Ashton:You haven’t even responded. Does that mean it’s going good or that it’s going bad? Your location services say you’re at your apartment. Does that mean he’s there too?
When did she get my location? I sigh and text her back quickly.
Me:He was here. He isn’t anymore. He never showed up for the dinner but then came to my apartment. He tasted like whiskey, and now I’m staring at a spoon on the floor.
Ashton:Um, back up. How do you know what he tastes like?
Me:We kissed.
My phone rings immediately.
“Kissed? Start at the beginning, leave nothing out.”
I pause and relive the kiss.
Passionate.
Sad.
Relentless.
Hot.
And I’m still not sure if he even knows my name.
Chapter 13
Ella
I’m on edge.
It’s been two days since the whiskey and salted caramel ice cream kiss, and I can’t even look at spoons anymore. Every time the elevator doors open, my heart does that stupid, hopeful stutter like it’s forgotten how to be subtle.
I’m scrubbing the countertop in a daze.
Ashton snaps her fingers in front of my face. “I think it’s clean.”
I blink. “What?”
She takes the rag out of my hand and drops it into the bin.
