2. Haven
Chapter Two
Haven
His mouth is so, so soft.
I wasn’t expecting that, not from the bad boy who flirts like he’s waging war against the world and his charm is his greatest weapon.
His skin is taut under my fingers, his body as big and hard as I expected. Like slamming into a frightening mountain.
But his mouth...
Cash Kincaid, who is all rough edges and violent presence, who I kissed because he’s dangerous, moves his lips against mine with a slow, searing tenderness, like he can feel my panic through my lips and he’s telling me to cool it.
Whoa.
I don’t need to explain to him what we’re doing here. He knows. He’s smart, and we’ve been friends, of a sort, for a very long time. He knows what Jeb is to me, and he’s not scared of anything.
So even though I didn’t consult him, didn’t ask him if he’d kiss me to make it clear once and for all that I’m not available, will never be interested in the youth pastor...Cash picks up the plan and sees it through.
Oh. My. Goodness.
His hands come up to my face, and I feel the roughness of his palms and the impossible care in his fingertips at the same time.
Warmth slides into me from every point where his skin meets mine, and I have a distant thought that we shouldn’t kiss for too long if we want this to be believable, and it has to be believable—but then my brain goes off-line.
Because Cash tilts my face up just slightly and slides his tongue between my lips.
Oh.
Oh.
I part for him, letting him deepen the kiss, trying not to shake too much in his arms. But it’s hard not to respond to the sweep of sensation, the escalation from the warmth of his skin to the wicked heat of his mouth.
And then, just as I start to respond, as my tongue chases after his—could I be wicked, too?—Cash lifts his head, breaking the kiss. Cool air is where his mouth was a second ago, and I startle
I open my eyes. Cash is all I can see, but I can feel Jeb staring at us.
Well, I did that.
I threw myself into the arms of his antithesis.
And what an antithesis Cash Kincaid is.
I didn’t know kissing could feel like that. If I had, I’d probably have gotten into a lot more trouble when I was younger.
Cash doesn’t look at Jeb, either. His gaze stays locked on my face. His eyes are hard, confused, but one corner of his mouth kicks up, slow and deliberate. And then he blinks, and when he re-focuses on me, his brown eyes practically smoulder as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Miss me that much?” he asks, and his voice is pitched low enough to seem intimate, but not so low that Jeb can’t hear it.
My heart leaps into my throat, even though I know the question is performative. “I guess so.”
“Good.” His thumb drags down my jaw. “I’ll come pick you up after work.”
The implication there, the message for our audience, is…well, it takes my breath away. I stammer, trying to respond, but the words fail to form properly.
He gives me another kiss, this one brief, but a little rougher. Bossier. The kind of kiss that says you kissed me for a reason, so I’m seeing this performance all the way through.
Cash is thorough, I have to give him that.
A girl asks him to kiss her, and he kisses her.
Makes her feel special, like she’s the only thing he can see in the entire world.
And that’s what I need right now. Need to make it crystal clear to the man who made my teenage years a living hell that I’m a very different woman than who he tried to groom me into.
From the choked noise of surprise a few feet away, I think Cash has achieved that for me. And that success is worth the confusing maelstrom of feelings swirling inside me as Cash tips my chin up and holds my gaze, his brown eyes glittering in the afternoon sun.
“Okay,” I say, and I’m proud of how steady my voice comes out, how easy, how unbothered. “And maybe I can make you dinner?”
He grins, ear to ear, and for one terrible, confusing second it feels so real it hurts my chest.
Then he slides the book from my hand and turns me around, pointing me back to the library. Not letting Jeb even talk to me for a second.
Cash makes a very good guard dog. And an even better fake boyfriend.
“Good luck with the brakes, Martin,” he says over his shoulder as he guides me back to the curb.
He doesn’t let go of me until we’re across the street, and Jeb’s truck has started up. And even then, it’s only to turn me back into his arms, shielding me from my worst nightmare.
I don’t know how he knows what Jeb represents to me, but I’m touched at his thoughtfulness.
The tires roll across gravel, the engine revs as he turns onto the street, and he’s gone.
“Thank you,” I say, very crisply, very carefully not looking up at him, as I step back from his embrace. “That was very helpful.”
“Was it?” He laughs a little under his breath. “Haven, I’m at your disposal, but you’ve started something here that’s not easily undone.”
“I—” I puff out my cheeks.
Oh crap.
I didn’t think about that. I kissed Cash Kincaid in the middle of the afternoon where anyone in Dragonfly Creek could see.
I decide that the safest thing to do is to flee back into the library.
Cash’s low chuckle follows me.