Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Andi
I stilled, my heart thudding so hard I felt it in my fingertips. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want me to kiss you,” he murmured, setting the plate on the counter behind us, then added, “but you’re too scared to ask.”
“I am scared,” I said quietly, surprising myself at the honesty behind the words.
His smirk faded, replaced with something less playful, as he turned toward me. “Of me?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Not you. Never you.”
“Then what?”
I hesitated then shrugged, trying to play it off even though my voice betrayed me. “Of this.” My voice shook. “Of what it means. Of what it doesn’t.”
Zane’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t.
“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now.
“Believe me, I do. You think you’re the only one scared?
” he went on, eyes holding mine. “I’ve been burned too, Andi.
Bad. So bad that I stopped letting people get close a long time ago because it always seemed to end the same way. ”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening.
“But you…” he said, then stopped, shaking his head like he wasn’t sure how to continue. “You make me feel something I forgot I could feel.”
My breath caught around the raw emotion snagging in my throat.
“It scares the hell out of me,” he admitted. “But it also makes me want more.”
“More pie?” I teased quietly. It was lame, but I needed a distraction to pull this conversation out of the serious territory it was headed.
The corner of Zane’s mouth lifted, and I knew he could tell I was deflecting again.
He didn’t call me on it, but he didn’t let it slide, either.
Instead, he reached for the plate between us.
I watched, unmoving, as he dragged his thumb slowly through the thick syrup pooling along the edge of the crust. His eyes never left mine, and something about the way he did it made the space between us crackle.
He lifted his hand, bringing that syrup-slick thumb up toward my face.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
His gaze dropped to my mouth as his thumb brushed lightly over my bottom lip—just a soft, gliding stroke that made every muscle in my body go tight.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rougher now. “More pie.”
And then, without a hint of hesitation, he leaned in.
But he didn’t kiss me, not right away. No, at first, he just…
hovered. Like he was giving me the chance to back out of what he was blatantly offering.
But I didn’t. His breath mingled with mine, slow and warm, while his thumb rested gently at the corner of my mouth.
My breath hitched then as I felt the slow, deliberate pass of his tongue as he licked that same trail of syrup from my lip.
A barely-there growl rumbled in his throat, caught there like he hadn’t meant for it to slip out.
“If you want me to stop,” he murmured, using the tip of his nose to nudge mine and tilt my head back, “just say the word.”
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because at that moment, I didn’t see the broody, guarded cowboy who kept people at arm’s length.
I saw the man behind the mask—the one who’d been hurt and still chose to reach for something anyway.
And I wanted to hold that softness in him like he was holding mine, gently and without conditions.
His hand cupped my cheek, the feel of it warm against my skin, as the other found the edge of the counter near mine, caging me in without trapping me. “You good?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
My lips parted on a shaky exhale, and I nodded.
“Say it,” he demanded gently.
“I’m good,” I whispered.
And then he kissed me.
Soft at first. Testing. Like he didn’t want to spook me. Like he needed me to know I could still pull away. But when I leaned into him, he deepened it, and I let him—let him kiss me and hold me like I was something precious…not breakable, not fragile, but worthy of being held that way.
That alone nearly undid me.
I tilted my chin up and kissed him back, slow and open-mouthed, tasting peach and bourbon and the kind of hunger that had nothing to do with pie.
His hand moved from the counter to my hip, pulling my body flush with his.
Sighing into the kiss, my hands found the fabric of his shirt, and I flattened my palm over his heart—soaking in his warmth and letting myself imagine what it would feel like to strip everything else away and be even closer.
The thought sent a shiver racing up my spine.
Zane felt it. I knew he did, because he eased up immediately. The kiss gentled, then broke, though he didn’t step back. “Would you be honest with me if I asked you something?”
My stomach fluttered as the words left his mouth. A part of me wanted to say yes without hesitation, because something about Zane made it feel safe to answer. But another part, the part that had learned the hard way what it cost to trust too quickly, curled in on itself.
“I promise I won’t pry,” he added. “Not beyond this. Not unless you want me to. But I need to know, Andi…just this one thing.”
I hesitated, then surrendered with a small nod.
“Are you in trouble?”
The silence that stretched between us wasn’t uncomfortable. It was…patient.
I exhaled slowly. “No,” I said, my voice quiet but filled with certainty. “Not anymore.”
Something in him relaxed, just enough for me to feel it.
“Okay,” he whispered. And then he kissed me again—just a soft brush of his mouth over mine.
When he pulled back, his thumb stroked gently over my cheek.
“You don’t need to hide with me, Andi.” His lips dragged over mine in one last, aching pass before he drew back enough to look at me.
“I’m not going to ask for anything you’re not ready to give.
Just…don’t lie to yourself about what you do want.
” His fingers curled into my side as his forehead fell to mine. “Because I’m not.”
Silence hovered between us. The scent of bourbon-laced peaches lingered in the air, sticky-sweet and intoxicating. I could still taste it on my lips—from the pie or the kiss, I wasn’t sure anymore. My heartbeat slowed, but it thudded deep in my chest like it was ten steps ahead of my brain.
God, I wanted this man—wanted him in ways that felt dangerous and deep and far too soon. But that old voice inside my head, the one shaped by carefully concealed bruises and apologies that came too late, rose up like a reflex.
My thoughts felt all tangled up, and it didn’t help how he just stood there holding me, like he’d wait forever if I needed him to.
He pulled back slightly then, brushing a knuckle under my chin and lifting it until my gaze met his.
He didn’t say anything, but there was a silent promise in the way he looked at me.
It’s okay. I’ll wait. Let me earn it.
It made me want to cry and kiss him all over again.
But I didn’t get the chance. He just smiled before backing away and turned as he walked back out into the night. My heart thrummed as I watched him go, arms wrapped around myself to fill the emptiness I felt all too suddenly without him near.
I wasn’t ready to hand my heart over to anyone.
But that man right there?
He made me want to try.