Chapter 10 #2
I’m panting by the time I finish my little rant. My cheeks burn. He must think I’m so stupid, caring about a town that will likely replace me as soon as they find out Dad isn’t coming back. They think I’m too young, too inexperienced. Baby Girl.
I hate that name and the connotations that come with it.
I wipe viciously at the tears gathering on my eyelashes. “I…” I stumble to my feet. I can’t be here. I need to breathe and gather myself. He won’t respect me if I break down talking about a house.
But I love this place more than anywhere else in town. My town. The one I’ve pledged my heart and soul to. Will it love me back with the same devotion when it’s my turn to lead it?
Or if I disappear tomorrow, will the next generation remember my name?
I sweep toward the door, but Landon grabs my hand and pulls me back to my knees. He threads his fingers through my hair, and his eyes caress my face, landing on my lips. “I wish I had a fraction of the passion you have for this place.”
Our breath mingles.
“It’s stupid.”
His hands run down my neck, over my shoulders and down to my hips, then back up to cradle my jaw.
“It’s not stupid. You are amazing,” he whispers as he kisses my neck.
“That passion. Fuck, Comet. How do you contain it?” He rubs his thumbs across my cheeks.
“How do you…” His eyes fall to my lips again, and it’s like he’s telegraphing what he wants into my brain.
His lips on mine. Our bodies flush with warmth and desire.
Do I want that too?
No one has ever looked at me the way Landon is now.
The longing in his gaze is something entirely other. It’s palpable. Like I could reach out and pick it up, hug it to my chest.
I want to know what desire tastes like, what it feels like to hold it in my arms.
The burn in my belly wins, and my lips mold to his with perfect precision. His hand slides around my back and bands me to him. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. On our knees, he gives me full access to devour his mouth and taste the desire in his depths.
God, he tastes good. I can’t name the flavors but the texture of his stubble against my cheek is invigorating. He nips at my lip, and a needy sigh escapes my chest.
I haven’t been decently kissed in years.
“Your tongue is amazing,” he whispers against my lips.
I giggle at his praise.
He slides both hands to my jaw and cups it gently. “I’m not kidding. Do you realize how sexy you are? How brilliant? This town is lucky to have you.”
Can a person literally glow? Because I feel like I am. Fireworks explode right out of my pores. No one respects me. No one praises me for anything.
But he does.
“Shut up and kiss me.” I slam my mouth back to his. We tumble to the blanket. He catches our weight and angles us onto our sides. His leg tangles between mine and tugs me closer, like he can’t get enough of me.
It’s heady and unexpected. This man who can have anyone he wants is kissing me like I’m the last donut in the police station, and he wants to savor every bite.
My hands explore the ridges and valleys of the muscles that teased me from under the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt as his trace up and down my spine.
When he gets to my butt, he caresses the side, kneading my thigh and bringing my knee up to his hip.
His erection hard against my inner thigh knocks me back to reality.
What am I doing? He’s the enemy.
I scramble out of his arms, to my feet, and scrub my hands across my mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He reaches for me, but I back to the corner of the room.
I bury my face in my hands. “What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem. You’re all…” My hand flails at his Norse-God physique. “And I’m…” I flail it at my discombobulated self. Messy hair, wearing his clothes, dirt under my fingernails.
He slowly stands and walks toward me. “Comet.”
“What is that name?” I’m a dumpster fire. I let him put his tongue into my mouth. His hands were everywhere.
What is wrong with me, that I’m putty in his hands after one little piece of praise?
“Take a breath.” He holds his hands in front of him like I’m a tiger he’s trying to put back in its cage.
Screw that. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you.”
“That’s a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because you are you, and I am me. I hate you because you destroyed my dream. And this…” My hand flails between us. “That.” I point to the blankets like they’re going to catch fire when Hell opens up to swallow me whole. “We can’t do that.”
“We can if you want to. I want to.” The casual smirk on his face twists my gut.
“I can’t sneak around making out with my enemy just because you have a stupid sexy grin and I have a praise fetish.”
“Who’s sneaking?”
“No! No one can ever find out about this. My dad…the council—they’ll fire me. They’ll fire dad.”
“For kissing me?”
“Because we lied about dad’s health. And they’ll wonder what else we’re lying about if all of a sudden you and I are making out every chance we get.
” I slap my hand over my mouth. Shit, shit, shit.
I wasn’t supposed to say any of that. “No. I meant, my dad hates you. He hates our plans for the renovation. If you have your way with me, he’ll think you’re manipulating me and getting whatever it is you want because I’m kiss-drunk.
You’re amazingly good at making me forget, making me stupid, he’ll believe—”
Shut up and find your filter.
Why did I say all of that?
It’s like saying, here Landon, take my insecurities and fears and use them against me, pretty please, because you’re so stupidly handsome, I can’t resist when you’re nice to me.
He blinks like I didn’t make any sense. I probably didn’t, so maybe there’s hope.
He presses his hand to his chest. “I’ve never been so insulted and proud of myself at the same time. I don’t know which emotion to follow.”
“No emotions. Landon, there cannot be emotions.” I thread my hands in a prayer under my chin.
“Listen to me. I can’t kiss you. I can’t make out with you.
The only thing I can think about is making sure you do what the historical society wants.
If we don’t and they ask questions, they’ll take my dad’s job from him.
He doesn’t know who he is if he’s not the mayor.
He’s not ready to retire. I need you to help me buy him time. Please.”
He tucks his upper lip between his teeth. His expression gives nothing away. When he meets my gaze, steel fills it. “I want to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” If I stay in this room one more minute, I’m going to lose my nerve. He’s too kissable. I like being in his arms too much to think clearly. “I’m going to find another place to sleep.”
He grabs my arm. “That’s ridiculous. The rest of the house is freezing.”
I shake myself loose. “I’ll be fine.”
His jaw works with all the things I’m guessing he’s forcing himself not to say. He shakes his head. “Here.” He pulls his dry jacket from the sconce by the fire. I didn’t even realize he’d moved our jackets to this room. “Put this on.”
“I—”
His eyebrow twitches with an unspoken challenge. Fine. I slide my arms in. The fabric is soft and warm against my skin. He spins me around and tugs the lapels under my chin. “Take the pallet. I’ll sit next to the door. I promise to leave you alone.”
I hate the way my heart sinks with his words, even if it is what I asked for.