Chapter 7
Seven
Tabitha
His lips are warm and firm against mine, his hands gently cradling my face. I’m too surprised to move, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest as I register what’s happening.
Henry is kissing me.
Henry is kissing me.
Henry is kissing me.
I tentatively return the kiss. He tightens his hold as I part my lips. A soft sigh escapes him, the sound vibrating through me and making my knees weak.
Henry is kissing me.
I’m kissing Henry.
Until another crack of thunder makes us pull apart. Our breaths are ragged and uneven, our faces only inches apart. His blue eyes are smoke-filled, his pupils dilated. The intensity of his gaze…
God…
“Tabitha,” he breathes out.
The kiss…
I want more of the kiss.
His kiss…
His lips touch mine again, and this time it’s not gentle.
No.
It’s wild and free and full of lust and tongue.
Until it’s not.
He pulls away abruptly, leaving me with my lips parted, my tongue out.
I clasp my hand over my mouth and gasp.
“Fuck,” is all he says.
I swallow. “Uh…what?”
He blinks. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Interesting choice of words on his part. Not “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Not “I’m sorry it happened.”
That shouldn’t have happened.
I’m not sure how to respond.
Until the perfect words come to me.
“Well, it did,” I say, hands on my hips.
It’s not like me to be so defiant, but the kiss was…
Man, the kiss was good. Maybe the best kiss I’ve ever had.
“It shouldn’t have,” he says again.
“Well, it did,” I say again.
He stares at me then, his gaze intense. His blue eyes are the color of the noon sky on a summer day in Boulder. His hair the color of wheat.
But his gorgeous granite jawline is tense.
“Are you sorry?” I finally ask.
He doesn’t respond.
Good.
He’s not sorry.
Neither am I.
Crack!
Another lightning bolt and thunderclap in unison.
This storm isn’t ending anytime soon.
And I can’t bring myself to feel bad about that either.
“Fuck,” he says again.
“Fuck what?” I raise my eyebrows at him.
He glares at me, his jawline going even more rigid. “Fuck you, Tabitha. Fuck you.”
I gasp and step backward. He’s angry. Really angry, and I don’t have the slightest idea why.
I draw in a deep breath. “Well…fuck you too!”
He steps toward me, grabs me, and leans down to my ear. “That’s exactly what I want to do,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you, Tabitha.”
My body goes cold.
Both in a good way and a bad way.
Then hot.
How do you feel hot and cold at the same time?
It’s a little stifling in the barn, although it’s raining outside, the water pelting on the roof in a discordant rhythm.
My body is humming with desire, and all I want is more kisses. And more…
More of what he wants.
Part of me wants to say, “Yes, take me right here. I’m yours. I’m willing to do whatever I need and whatever you need.”
But the other part of me knows this isn’t a good idea.
Henry is still dealing with the fallout from Ralph’s death, and Angie has told me he’s having a hard time coming to terms with it.
I don’t mean anything to him.
This would simply be an escape.
“Did you hear me?” he whispers. “I want to fuck you. I want to rip your clothes off right here and fuck you in the barn.”
I look down at the floor of the barn. It’s boards. Dirty boards. Hay everywhere, and the smell…
Yeah. Not sexy.
We’d both get filthy.
Oddly, that doesn’t seem to bother me.
What does bother me is that this would only be a fuck to him. An escape from his trauma, from what’s bothering him.
A simple release.
I’m better than that.
So why do I want to let him take what he needs so badly?
I once told Angie that I had a thing for blond guys.
Henry is about the best-looking blond guy I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve laid eyes on some great ones.
“I heard you.” I push him away and step back.
He stares at me. “God, I could look into your eyes forever.”
My eyes? My eyes are simply brown. He’s the one with amazing eyes—that sky blue that seems to go on until the end of time.
For some reason, maybe on instinct, I close my eyes.
He grabs the back of my head, tilts my chin up. “Open them. Open your eyes.”
I obey him.
“You should never close your eyes, Tabitha. You have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen.”
I frown. “They’re just plain brown.”
“They’re light brown, the color of caramel. And your lashes are so long.”
My lashes are long, but they’re brown, not black. I have to use mascara for anyone to even see them.
I open my mouth to say this, but then I close it, thinking better of it. Henry isn’t here to learn about my makeup routine.
“I could stare into them forever,” he continues.
I part my lips, lick the bottom one.
He lets out a soft groan.
“My eyes are nothing compared to yours,” I say. “Did you know that blue eyes are a mutation? That some say people with blue eyes are descended from aliens?”
The words echo in my head.
What the hell did I just say?
I’ve got this beautiful man wanting to fuck me, waxing poetic about my eyes, and I mention aliens? Please, barn floor, swallow me now.
He gives me a semi-smile. “Ever fucked an alien?”
Oh. My. God.
This isn’t happening.
“I… I have to go.”
I break away from him, and without looking back, I race out the barn door.
Big mistake.
I run into torrential rain, and I’m soaked within the first two seconds.
Then another lightning bolt and thunderclap.
Way too close for comfort.
Henry runs out, grabs me, and pulls me back into the barn. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s just…”
“Just what?”
I don’t respond.
“For God’s sake, Tabitha, what?”
“I don’t want to be… I mean, I’m not the kind of girl you think I am.”
His eyebrows twitch. “You mean the girl who would fuck a guy she hardly knows in the barn while it’s raining?”
I nod slightly.
“Look at it this way,” he says. “You’re not fucking a guy you hardly know. You’re fucking an alien you hardly know.”
“Henry…”
“For all you know, I could have some kind of weird space cock that will pleasure you like nothing else.”
I draw in a breath.
Why did I make that alien remark again?
God, Tabitha, you have to work on your conversation skills with men who are ridiculously attractive.
“How long do you think this rain is going to last?” I ask.
“No way to tell. Most summer storms come and go pretty quickly, but then there are some that last for hours.”
“And it will get dark eventually,” I say.
He checks his phone. “Yeah, between eight and nine o’clock.”
I look at my watch. It’s eight o’clock now.
“I shouldn’t have come on so strong,” he says.
“You’re right about that.” I tilt my head. “Why did you?”
He moves away from me, pushes his damp hair off his forehead. “Because you’re fucking gorgeous. Because I’m a fucked-up mess. Because I just really want to take you to bed.”
“Here?”
“What? You’ve never fucked in a barn before?”
“I grew up in the suburbs, Henry. Have you?”
He chuckles. “Only about a hundred times. Then again, I grew up on a ranch.”
Something like jealousy spears into my gut. Why should I care that Henry’s fucked a hundred times in the barn? It doesn’t mean he’s fucked a hundred women. Though he probably has. I mean, look at him.
I sigh. “Henry, I’m here for the wedding. I don’t want anything to mess this up for Angie.”
“You think I do?”
“No, that’s not what I mean at all, and you know it. But if I let you screw me in this barn, then things will be awkward between us for the rest of the time. That’s not very kind to Angie and Jason.”
“It will only be awkward if you let it be.” He steps toward me again.
“This isn’t going to happen,” I say.
“Isn’t it?” His eyes bore into mine.
Then he leans down, grabs my face—not gently—and crushes his lips to mine.