Chapter 10
Clayton
I have no idea where this has come from. All I know is Vaughn's warm lips and tender touch are a balm my fragile, raw soul has been desperately needing.
It's not a long kiss, not even a proper kiss really, because the second my lips part, he jolts back.
Mabel, who is strapped to his chest, gurgles, providing us both with a very convenient excuse not to look at one another.
As surprised as I am by what just happened, I'm the first one to look up. He follows a few—okay, maybe more than a few—seconds later, lifting his head, his eyes clouded over with…regret?
Wait, no.
Maybe…lust?
Because I'm pretty sure that kiss wasn't a cultural thing, something Montanaian men do to farewell each other. It may have been short—over in less time than we’ve spent gawking at each other, but I'm sure of one thing.
For the first time since my breakup, I feel a little more alive, and a little less broken.