Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The raw wounding in his voice surprised even him.
After doing his best to hide his pain—forcing his steps to be “normal” instead of leaning on his cane coming up from the park, ignoring the cold seeping into his muscles and joints and the quivering weakness of his leg, nearly biting off his own tongue to keep his agony silent—he hadn’t fooled her at all.
His instant defensiveness and quick denial sat heavily on his tongue, bitter and vulnerable and altogether unwelcome. He didn’t want to be anyone’s charity case.
He didn’t want Jif’s pity.
Her eyes flew to his.
“I don’t think that.”
He almost believed her vehement denial. Almost.
It couldn’t be true, though. No one could miss all the ways his injury limited him. Half the time, he couldn’t even stand his reflection in the mirror without regret and resentment piercing his chest.
“Let me get the damned door.”
Jif’s shoulders fell. “Okay.”
Miles lurched out of the car, hating the blasted cane, but needing it.
Nix followed, scrabbling over the center console until Jif caught his collar, pushing him back.
“Wait, boy. You’ll be home soon.”
Miles slammed his door with more force than necessary and dragged in several deep breaths of the cool evening air as he rounded the hood. Pulling her door open, he held a hand out to Jif. Though she hesitated a moment, she took it and let him pull her from the car.
Without releasing it, he twined their fingers together and made his slow way up the driveway to her front steps. Standing at the bottom, he eyed the six wooden stairs, slick with dew, and steeled himself, leaning heavily on the cane to counterbalance the weakness.
Reaching the front door, he turned to her, eyes fixing a moment on the lock of hair falling over her shoulder.
Gently, he twined his finger around it, then brushed it back.
Close enough to hear her breath stutter at the motion, he let his gaze drop to her lips.
They’d been glistening and bright when he picked her up, but now, hours later, after eating and watching the movie, they’d returned to normal.
Done up, they’d been sexy, near irresistible. The temptation to steal a kiss might have made him move faster than he wanted to if they hadn’t reverted to their natural state over the course of the evening. He wouldn’t be less than a gentleman for Jif.
He did want to kiss her, though, and unless he missed his guess, she wanted to kiss him, too. He swallowed back his nerves. It had been a very long time since he’d had a first kiss. Years.
He cleared his tight throat. “I’d like to kiss you.”
Her brows rose, voice husky as she said, “You’re asking?”
“Consent is important.” His own voice dropped to match hers.
She tipped her head to one side, studying him, and he wanted to drown in her starburst eyes. A flash of something crossed her face, there and gone before he could unpack what it might mean.
“Okay,” she agreed.
He could admit the moment wasn’t as romantic, but consent was sexy.
It mattered too much to skip. Pulling her body flush against his, he leaned his cane against the rail and raised his other hand to cup the side of her neck, working his fingers into her hair and tilting her head up until their lips aligned, millimeters apart.
Then, he paused. The tension between them, the moment of delayed anticipation, was almost more poignant than the kiss itself.
Their lips touched. He meant to keep it brief—a press, then a pull away—but his chest twisted, and his body demanded more. He couldn’t help brushing his mouth over hers a second time, then a third, desire drawing him in.
As their passion unfurled, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers.
Her hand squeezed his bicep, pulling them closer, though they were already aligned chest and hips and thighs, and when his hand clenched in her hair, eliciting a heated gasp, he took advantage.
They broke apart several minutes later, her cheeks flushed and eyes glistening, her chest heaving against his as she caught her breath, and Miles wasn’t displeased by her reaction.
If he could trust her internet footprint, she had plenty of guys to choose from.
Somehow, she’d inexplicably chosen him, and though it still didn’t quite make sense, he wouldn’t waste the chance.
He wouldn’t let go of her sunlight and warmth and joy.
She bit her lip, glancing up at him through her lashes with the same coyness she’d used in the car, artificial and manufactured.
He wouldn’t tell her no if she simply said what she wanted; she didn’t need tricks to convince him.
“Do you want to come in?”
Well, okay, maybe some things were still off the table. If he went in, he’d want to stay, and he didn’t think Jif would mind if he did, but bearing his wrecked body to anyone, especially her, wouldn’t happen any time soon.
He rested his forehead against hers, the warmth of her breath ghosting against his lips, sharing the very air they breathed. “I can’t.”
“Oh. I see.” She pulled back, but he didn’t let her go far.
“I want to,” he corrected. “But I can’t.”
Thankfully, she understood. At least, she didn’t push. Linking her hands behind his head, she pulled him down for another long, slow kiss, and if he didn’t say goodnight soon, the state of his body wouldn’t matter, he’d stay because he couldn’t bear to leave.
He brushed his nose against hers, then kissed the corner of her mouth once more before slowly letting her go, his hand sliding across her waist, trailing over her belly as she turned in his arms, then catching her other hip for a moment.
Pulling her back against him again, he buried his nose in the crook of her shoulder, nibbling when she giggled, then letting go.
Walking down those blasted steps and leaving her, his body clamoring to accept her invitation despite the state of his leg, would already be near-impossible.
Reaching for his cane, he deliberately stepped away, pushing the screen door closed behind her as she went into the house.
“Goodnight, Jif.”
She glanced flirtatiously back over her shoulder. For once, he didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.
“Night, Miles.”
Though his cane thumped heavily on each step as he descended, his chest lifted, the pain taking flight like shadows before a sunrise.