Chapter 2 #2
"Fine. Just jumpy." She forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Storms make me nervous."
I should leave. Should walk out that door and not come back until I can trust myself around her. But the thought of her alone in this bookstore while thunder shakes the walls and her hands tremble—
I can't do it.
"I'm not leaving you here scared." The words come out before I can stop them.
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." I take a step toward her, then another, until I'm close enough to smell vanilla again. Close enough to see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. "But I can't walk out that door knowing you're afraid."
Her eyes search mine, and something shifts in her expression. Softens.
"I don't want you to go," she whispers.
The honesty in those six words detonates something in my chest.
I'm across the remaining distance before I can think. Before I can talk myself out of it. Before the voice in my head that says this is a mistake can get any louder.
My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. Her skin is soft and warm, and she's looking up at me with those wide eyes that make it hard to breathe.
"Tell me to stop," I say, and my voice is barely recognizable. Rough. Desperate.
She doesn't.
Her hands come up to rest against my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. Not pushing away. Holding on.
"Don't stop," she breathes.
I lower my mouth to hers.
The first touch of her lips against mine destroys everything I've been holding back.
She tastes like coffee and vanilla and something sweeter underneath, something I want to drown in.
My hands slide into her hair, tilting her head to the angle I need, and she opens for me with a soft sound that makes my knees weak.
The kiss deepens. I feel her everywhere, her soft curves pressed against hard muscle, her hands fisting my shirt, her breathing going ragged.
I walk her backward until her back hits the wall, and I cage her in with my body.
Not trapping. Sheltering. Showing her, without words, that I've got her.
That she's safe. That nothing's getting to her while I'm here.
She whimpers into my mouth, and the sound nearly destroys me.
Thunder rolls overhead again, but this time she doesn't flinch. Her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan against her lips. The storm outside can rage all it wants. In here, she's not afraid.
I force myself to gentle the kiss. To pull back before I take more than she's ready to give. My forehead drops to hers, and my hands are shaking where they frame her face.
"I've been wanting to do that since the moment I walked through your door," I admit.
"Me too." Her voice is breathless, wonder-struck.
Outside, rain lashes the windows. Thunder rumbles, distant now. She's not trembling anymore. Not humming under her breath to soothe herself. Just looking at me like I'm something worth keeping.
I kiss her forehead, then force myself to step back. The loss of contact is physical pain, but I need space before I do something stupid. Like kiss her again. Like never leave.
"The storm's getting worse," I say, my voice still rough from the kiss.
For a second, I almost tell her I'm staying. That I'll camp out on her couch and make sure nothing happens to her through the night. But if I stay, I won't be able to keep my hands off her. I'll kiss her again. And again. And I won't stop at kissing.
She deserves better than me taking what I want when we've known each other less than forty-eight hours.
"The rest of the wiring in the shop should hold," I force myself to say. "You should head home. Get some rest."
Disappointment flickers across her face before she hides it. "Okay."
She gathers her things while I wait near the windows.
She grabs an umbrella leaning in the corner by the door and opens it as we step out into the rain.
It’s huge, but I put my arm around her shoulder to keep us close beneath it.
Her soft curves fit against me like we were made for each other.
My cock threatens to wake up as heat from her body radiates into my side.
Her car is parked under a streetlight, and I wait while she unlocks it. She pauses with her hand on the door handle, looking up at me. Rain falls all around us, and she shivers slightly.
"Thank you," she says. "For coming back. For staying as long as you did."
“I should let you get home.” The words taste wrong even as I say them.
"Then why are you still standing here?"
Because if I don't, I'll follow you home. I'll make sure you get inside safely, and then I'll kiss you again in your doorway, and I won't be able to walk away a second time.
"Because we both need to think about what this is," I say instead. "What we want it to be."
She studies my face for a long moment, rain streaming around us. Then she nods. "Okay."
"Get in," I say gently. "Before you catch cold."
She climbs into the driver's seat, and I close the door for her. From under the umbrella, I watch her start the engine, turn on the heat. The windows begin to defog. She's safe. Warm. Protected from the storm.
But I still can't make myself walk away.
I tap on her window, and she rolls it down partway.
"Text me when you get home," I say. "So I know you made it safe."
Her smile is soft and surprised. "Put your number in my phone." She taps her phone, then hands it to me. I add myself as a contact and hand it back to her.
"I mean it, Elorie. I need to know you're safe."
"I will. I promise."
I step back, and she pulls out of the parking spot. I watch her taillights disappear down the street, rain hammering around me.
Only when she's completely out of sight do I walk to my truck.
Inside the cab, I sit with the engine running and stare at my phone. Ten minutes pass. Then it buzzes.
Elorie: Home safe. Thank you for worrying about me.
Relief floods through me, sharp and immediate.
Brooks: Good. Lock your doors. I'll drop off your umbrella tomorrow.
Elorie: Promise?
Brooks: Promise.
I set the phone down and grip the steering wheel. Every instinct still screams at me to drive to her apartment. To make sure her building is secure. That her locks are strong enough. That she's really, truly safe.
But I start the engine and drive toward the mountains instead.
The roads are slick and dark. My mind replays everything: the kiss, the way she looked at me, the trust in her eyes when I said I'd come back. The way she shivered in the rain, and I wanted to wrap her in my jacket and never let her go.
It’s late by the time I reach my cabin. I check my phone one more time.
No new messages. She's home. She's safe.
I force myself inside, but sleep doesn't come easy. I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to rain hammer the roof, and all I can think about is her alone in her apartment while the storm rages.
Twelve hours. I lasted twelve hours before I found an excuse to see her.
Tomorrow, I won't even bother with excuses. The umbrella is enough.
I'll just go back where I belong.