20. Home For Kisses
Home For Kisses
Fly
Icould kiss her.
Her body is telling me that she wants it just as much as I do, but it’s her mind that has me questioning what she wants, even though all I want is to kiss her for as long as possible.
Bringing Sheridan back to my home was the worst best idea I’ve ever had. There was no way we were going to get any privacy back at the clubhouse. My brothers would have enjoyed tormenting me too much.
It seems bringing Sheri back is just as much torment.
This was supposed to be simple, but she’s anything but simple.
Does she mean what I think she means when she says she doesn’t know how to tie a cherry stem? So far, every kiss has been full of passion but lacking finesse. Was she trying to tell me she doesn’t date much?
Because that I could believe.
But how would that be possible? She’s beautiful, witty, and says what she thinks.
Games are the worst thing men and women can do to a relationship.
Sheri says she doesn’t want one. But the question she asked makes it seem like she does.
Before I get in too deep with her, I should probably find out if she is one of the authors who could possibly be in danger or just one of the friends. If I ask her what she does, then she’s going to ask what I do. And telling her I build bikes, which is partially true, isn’t going to satisfy her.
Watching the flames flicker in her eyes almost pushes me past reason.
Is it unreasonable? The whole point of coming here was to make out. She was so clear about that.
“What do you do?”
And our minds are completely in sync as she asks me that, though she isn’t trying to ascertain my safety. Or is she?
This could look like a lot. Rich men aren’t usually known for being good men.
Then again, I don’t consider myself to be good in any way, shape, or form.
“I build custom motorcycles for the club’s shop.
What about you?” Say you’re a secretary or dentist—she does have good teeth—anything but a writer.
“I’m an author.”
No. Not her. Maybe she hasn’t been published yet. That would take her off our serial killers’ list of possible targets. “Have you published yet?”
“I’m not traditionally published if that’s what you mean, but yeah, I’ve published a few books.”
That could be less than a handful. Grasping at straws won’t keep my woman safe.
My woman…
Do I really mean it like that?
My woman…Sheri is my woman.
Well, that changes things.
“Are you okay?”
No. I’m not. I kissed you a couple of times, and somehow my mind has laid claim to you. This is complete insanity. “What type of books do you write?”
That should kill time for me to figure out my mind and come to terms with the fact that this isn’t going to end in two weeks and I need to figure out how to keep you safe while not getting either of the three boys who seem to be walking trouble magnets murdered, find a drug dealer, and figure out ways for us to have time to make out as often as possible.
“My friends tell me that I should write romance, but I write sci-fi…maybe I should switch that up to sigh-fi. That might be fun.”
“What name do you write under?”
“Sheridan Wholes.”
Why does that name sound familiar? “Is Wholes your real name?”
“Yeah, weird, right?”
Memorable…She should be easy to look up, but the question is, will she let me keep her safe? “You chose it, so in some way it’s right for you.”
“What do you mean?” She blinks twice. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I kind of did.”
“Do you enjoy writing?”
“For almost all authors, writing is our biggest joy and the thing that tortures us the most. I like it when the words are flowing, and I hate it when nothing comes out but trite nonsense.” She’s cute when her nose wrinkles like that.
What isn’t cute is that coat she has clutched around her. I turned on the fireplace not just for the ambience but also so she’d be comfortable.
Clearly, that hasn’t worked.
Maybe if I make the room warm enough, she’ll start relaxing a bit more.
Like it’s just the temperature that has her uncomfortable. I went too fast, too soon, bringing her back to my place.
But she seemed so sure of herself, of us.
“I can turn up the temperature.” Maybe a glass of wine will help. Like you want booze to be the solution.
What is wrong with me?
Her…She makes my mind turn upside down, and reason gets tossed out the window. I need a plan. I always have a plan and a backup plan for when the initial plan goes south, which inevitably happens when you least expect it.
“No, um.” She stands up, clutching her coat around her.
That was not what I wanted to happen.
Sheri walks over to the fireplace. “There’s no need to heat this huge space when I won’t be here long.”
Why would she say that? Does she want to leave already?
What went wrong?
I’m messing this up.
It’s not going to get any better with her over there and you sitting over here like a lump staring at her.
Winging it is going to have to work. Slowly, so as not to startle her again, I approach Sheri.
“Have you ever wanted something so much, but been afraid when it’s about to happen?”
That explains what I’m feeling right now so well. “Yeah.”
She reaches up, putting a hand on my shoulder and sliding her fingers into my hair. “Kissing you is easy.” A little lean forward is all it takes for her lips to land on mine.
It’s soft and sweet, but a little hesitant at first.
Then her fingers fist in my hair, pulling me closer.
There’s nothing easy about the storm of emotions that swirl inside me as I press closer to her. Like this, we’re perfect.