9. Chapter 9
Cate
Imade it exactly forty-eight hours before I went back.
Not back to The Scot the first real uncertainty I’d seen from him. “Can I kiss you?”
The question hit me like a hand to the chest.
Not because I didn’t want it, but because I did.
Because he asked.
Because no one ever asked.
My throat tightened. I couldn’t speak. I only nodded.
John moved slowly, like he was giving me every chance to change my mind.
When his hand lifted, it didn’t grab. It didn’t claim.
It cupped my cheek like I was something fragile.
And when he kissed me…
It wasn’t desperate.
It wasn’t drunk.
It wasn’t a bar kiss meant to lead somewhere.
It was careful, warm, and certain.
Like he was saying, I’m here. I’m not in a rush. I’m not leaving.
My hands found his jacket, gripping the fabric like I needed something to hold onto. His mouth softened against mine, and the world narrowed to the simple fact of him.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine.
“Okay?” he whispered.
I exhaled a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”
His smile was quiet. “Good.”
I should have stepped away, but I didn’t.
I let myself stand there for one more second, breathing him in, feeling the impossible steadiness of being wanted without being pushed.
Then I forced my feet to move.
I got into my car, hands shaking as I started the engine.
And as I pulled away, I looked in the mirror.
John was still standing there, watching until my taillights disappeared.
Like he meant it.
Like tomorrow was real.
Like I hadn’t just made the kind of choice that changes everything.