Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
ALLEY
“That’s okay, babe.” He lifts my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to my skin. “I do.”
My pulse skips a beat. It shouldn’t turn me on the way it does—him taking control, not afraid to go for what he wants...
But when the thing he wants is me? God, that’s hot.
I take a shaky breath, holding his gaze as his thumb moves slowly over my skin. Goosebumps ripple up my arms, anticipation swirling low in my stomach. My heart thunders in my chest—confusing the absolute shit out of me. I’m scared. Every instinct says to run.
But I want to run straight into Jensen’s arms.
I want to climb into his lap and lose myself in him. I want him to throw me into the backseat and do all the things I know he’s thinking about. The things he’s so damn good at.
I wish I could forget the last six months ever happened and just feel him again. But even when I try to forget, I can’t. What the hell am I supposed to do with all that?
“Let’s go back to that thing you said about a kiss,” I say softly.
His lips pull into a smirk—the one that’s owned me from day one. His confidence and charm? They’re my kryptonite.
And tonight? He showed up fully charged with both.
“Yeah? What about it?”
I don’t answer—afraid my lips will betray me again. A Fleetwood Mac song plays in the background and it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. The silence stretches as he waits for me to answer. My lips part, but no words come. Just this ache, this want, this terrifying hope.
He leans in, tucking my hair behind my ear, and my breath catches.
Oh my God, I’m so nervous.
His lips hover near my ear as he whispers, “You want me to kiss you?”
I nod slowly, even though a part of me is screaming no—the scared part. The part that’s hurt. The part that still remembers everything.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”
My entire body feels like a live wire as I search his face—so open, so steady. Trusting. The piercing blue of his eyes somehow striking, even in the dark. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I want you to kiss me.”
I want it so badly it almost hurts.
His lips curve into the sexiest grin as he cups the back of my head, his thumb brushing across my cheek. Then—with zero hesitation—he crushes his mouth to mine.
He doesn’t kiss me gently.
Oh my God.
It’s like he’s starving.
My lips part on instinct, welcoming the warmth—the taste of mint and Jensen and memory. I melt into him, the storm inside me quieting. No thoughts. No fears. Only this. Only him.
His tongue coaxes mine, and I open further, letting him in.
It’s good.
It’s really, really good.
Too much and not enough, all at the same time.
I moan into his mouth. I don’t mean to. Can’t stop it.
“Fuck, Alley.” He kisses me again, deeper this time. Rougher. Hotter. Like he needs me. Like a man who’s been shipwrecked and I’m dry land.
My fingers curl in his jacket, and a steady pulse builds between my thighs. Heat spreads through me like liquid lightning.
Holy shit. I want more.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. His bottom lip catches between his teeth like it’s taking everything in him not to devour me.
“Jesus,” he mutters, breath ragged. “I can’t keep kissing you or I’m going to fuck you right here in the backseat of this car. That’s where I’m at, Al. So if you’re not ready—don’t ask me to kiss you again unless you want the whole damn thing.”
God. Is there a woman alive who wouldn’t want to hear those words?
“I can wait.” He chuckles—low, rough, addictive. “I’ve gotten good at resisting things that test my willpower. But damn, babe. You test it like nothing else ever has.”
My heart pounds in my ears. My breath’s caught somewhere between my chest and throat.
“Okay,” I whisper, barely audible. “Let’s stop, then. I’m not sure I want that.”
Lies. Of course I want that. My body’s begging for it.
“Yet,” he says.
My brows pull together.
“You’re not sure you want that yet,” he repeats, his voice smug.
I let out a shaky laugh. “God, you’re so cocky.”
He grins, shaking his head. “Confident. There’s a difference.” Then he lifts my hand again and presses a kiss to my knuckles like he’s some old-school movie star—a modern-day Jimmy Stewart. “And you love that about me. You always have.”
“I guess I did miss your ego… a little.”
He chuckles. “Careful, babe. You keep talking like that, you’ll fall back in love with me.”
His eyes find mine—and hold.
“Love was never the problem, Jensen.”
He swallows hard, like that hit deeper than expected. And I’m not sure if he hears it as a blessing or a warning.
After a moment, he nods. “Guess that’s a good thing, then.”
I shake my head, still staring at his mouth. “Is it?” My voice is soft. Raw. “Because it’s confusing as hell for me. Wanting you—but not trusting that it’ll last. Being too scared to just give in.”
His thumb drags across my hand. “I get it, babe. I really do. But it’s a fucking relief to hear you say love’s not the problem.”
“I wish I felt the same way.”
His gaze moves slowly over my face, pausing at my lips before meeting my eyes again. My stomach flutters. My pulse refuses to calm.
“So when you ask me if I’ll date you again… it’s not that simple for me. Nothing about this is simple.” I take a breath. “It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either.”
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “That’s good enough for me. I’ll take anything in between, Alley. As long as there’s still a chance.”
A comfortable silence settles between us, even without a clear answer. At least everything’s out in the open.
My eyes drop to Jensen’s lap—briefly, but long enough to notice his erection straining against his joggers.
I can’t help but smile, a soft laugh slipping out. “Good to know I still give you boners.”
He groans, tipping his head back against the headrest. “God, don’t start,” he says, chuckling under his breath.
“What?” I tease, biting back another grin. “It’s nice to know some things never change. That boner brought us together.”
“I told you, you’re Clark’s kryptonite.”
His gaze meets mine and the tension is palpable—the kind you can’t joke away.
We both feel it.
And if we sit here much longer, I’m going to give in.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Will you promise me something?”
“What is it?”
“Promise me, if you’re really going to go through with the divorce, don’t drag me along. Just tell me. Rip the damn Band-Aid off.” He pauses, brows furrowing. “I’d rather hear there’s no chance now than have you give me hope just to take it away later.”
“I can’t give you an answer right now,” I admit, my voice catching. “That’s the truth. I don’t know if this won’t still end in divorce.” I pause, taking a stabilizing breath. “I want this. I really do.” My eyes close, fighting the sting. “I want you.”
When I look at him again, I’m not sure how I’m even holding it together.
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You. And for so long, that was enough.
” I glance down, trying to steady my breath.
“But it’s not anymore.” I shake my head slowly.
“It’s not just about you. It’s the addiction—I don’t trust it.
I don’t trust that it won’t show up again.
In three months. Three years. Ten.” I meet his eyes, voice barely holding steady.
“That scares the shit out of me, Jensen.”
His eyes close, lips pressing tight, like he’s trying not to break.
“I want to trust that everything will be okay. That this will all work out,” I say softly. “But that’s where I am.”
“Sucks to hear,” he says. “But I can handle that.”
The guilt creeps in and crashes over me all at once. I blink through the burn of fresh tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your texts. That I didn’t call. I’ve just… I’ve been so hurt.”
I press my head into the back of the seat, trying to get a grip. “I’ve been struggling. I’m so fucking sad. I’m a mess. And I knew—” My voice cracks. “I knew that if I talked to you…” I glance his way. “If I saw you… I’d forgive you. I’d fall back in.”
I shake my head, my throat tightening. “And it shouldn’t be that easy. You put me through hell. You did some really fucked-up things.”
He leans in, wrapping his arms around me the best he can over the console.
“Shit,” he breathes, pulling me closer. “Fuck, babe. I know. I know.”
Then he cups my cheeks—his hands trembling—and presses his lips to mine. It’s firm. Desperate. Like he thinks he can kiss away the pain. The memories. The ghosts that still haunt me.
And God, I want him to.
I wish it were that easy.
But it’s not.
I kiss him back—frantic. Like if I stop, I’ll lose him again. For good.
His hands slide into my hair, his body shifting closer.
It feels like we’re free-falling—both of us. Trusting the parachute.
Will it save us?
Or take us down together?
He pulls back, breathless, sinking into his seat. “Seriously, babe.” His voice is low, gravelly. “We can’t keep kissing like this if you’re unsure of where you stand.”
My lips tingle, and I’m practically gasping for air, stunned by his restraint.
He lets out a shaky breath, turning his head toward me. “I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret. I’d rather wait until you’re sure.”
Then a smile spreads across his lips. “Clark can’t handle emotional rejection.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. I can’t help but appreciate the shift. He’s been vulnerable, and so have I. We both know he means he can’t handle it. “Well, I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt Clark.”
He reaches for my hand, and I weave my fingers through his.
I flash him a grin. “You know how I got caught by a cop making out in a car, shirt off and all?”
He nods. “Your first boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing as the memory resurfaces. “It was here. In this parking lot.”
His grin stretches wide. “No wonder you asked if I was trying to get laid.”
“This is where everyone goes to make out—or do more—in a car. How’d you know about it?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Matt.”