Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s easier to douse a flame than to suffocate a wildfire.
I will be the death of him.
Just…one kiss.
One drink turned into three. Then I was making excuses, and Otis gave me a knowing thumbs-up before I could change my mind.
By the time I’d paid for a cab with money I couldn’t afford and reached the marina, the déjà vu was suffocating. I retraced the exact steps I’d taken the night before—but this time, I wasn’t crouching like a stalker in the shadows. This time, I held my head high. I told myself to woman-up.
I knocked before I could chicken out again.
The second I did, panic flared. What if he wasn’t home? What if he wasn’t alone? Could I still dive behind the neighbor’s potted plant?
The door opened.
“I’m not into you.”
The words exploded from my mouth before my brain could stop them. I immediately wished to die.
John stood there, blinking rapidly. His hair was tousled. Shirt unbuttoned. He looked half-asleep, like I’d woken him up.
“What?” he said, groggy and stunned, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Last night—it might’ve looked like I wanted to, you know…kiss you. But I didn’t. Or maybe I did, but it was the drinks, and the movies, and I felt cozy and maybe a little turned on—”
I shook my head wildly.
“Anyway, the point is—I’m not into you. Like that. Just so you know.”
John slid his hands into his pockets. “Well, I am, very much, into you.”
Oh shit.
“Well said.”
Apparently I had spoken out loud. Fantastic. My skin felt too tight. My pulse pounded in my throat.
He just said that. To my face. That he was into me. Me?
“You…are?” I managed.
He tilted his head slightly, as if explaining what oxygen was. “Unfortunately. Yes. A lot.”
A lot.
My stomach did a triple somersault.
“But this can’t go anywhere,” he added, drawing a clean line in the sand.
I tried not to be disappointed by his words.
He was right, wasn’t he? Better to stay focused on the goal than get distracted by a hot booty.
I glanced down at my silver boots—the ones I’d worn tonight just in case he noticed. Just in case he said something. What a total idiot I was.
I nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor.
“You’re right. I’m being ridiculous. This”—I threw up my hands—“is ridiculous.”
I turned away, voice low now. “I shouldn’t feel this way when I’m around you.”
“What way?”
Of course he heard that. Of course. So much for my brilliant plan to pretend I didn’t care.
I looked up. His brows had drawn together.
I let out a breath, half-laugh, half-defeated sigh. He knew. He had to know. But I said it anyway.
“Like there’s a fire burning under my skin every time you look at me.”
The words spilled out before I could stop them.
I wanted to snatch them back. Bury them. Stomp them out with my goddamn silver boots.
“Fuck.”
I snorted. “Wow. Poetic. I see why you’ve never tried to become a poet.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Hello, dimple.
A hollow laugh escaped me. “I don’t get it. You’re not even that good-looking.”
“And I’m old. Engaged. Your competition.”
I nodded solemnly. “Exactly. It’s probably nothing. Just a phantom itch you think you need to scratch because you can’t reach it.”
“Probably.”
His voice was low. That rich baritone—like butter on hot toast—curled around me, seeped into my bloodstream.
I bit the inside of my cheek. My eyes dropped to his mouth.
Maybe…
“I think it’s safer if we just get it out of our system,” I said, my eyes dropping to his lips. They parted.
His chest was rising and falling faster.
“We’ll kiss,” I continued, taking a half-step back like I was making a business proposition. “Once. And it’ll be terrible.”
John straightened, his shoulders squaring.
His expression tightened, like he was steeling himself.
The muscles beneath his open shirt shifted, and I had to ball my hands into fists to keep from reaching out, to see how well they would fit under my palms. I was seconds from regretting this whole thing, seconds from backpedaling and laughing it off. But then—
“Come here then,” he said.
My breath caught. “Now?”
“I can check my agenda for a better time.”
His eyes flicked to my lips, and I could feel the heat blooming low in my belly. That dangerous creature inside me stirred.
“Fine. One kiss,” I said. “And then this weird tension? Gone.”
I closed the distance slowly, placing my hands on his chest. His breath hitched beneath my palms.
“Absolutely,” he said.
He pulled his hands from his pockets, dragging them up my sides with unbearable patience. The heat of his palms burned right through my leather jacket.
I tilted my head—he was so damn tall—and his hands suddenly tightened on my back, pulling me flush against him. Soft bits to hard bits. My head spun with dizzying want.
My fingers slipped behind his neck, threading into his dark locks. I rose on my tiptoes and angled his head toward mine. He didn’t resist. Every inch felt like a line crossed, irreversible.
Our noses brushed, giving the other time to pull away.
But neither of us did.
Then his lips met mine—warm, deliberate, grounding and unraveling me all at once. We both let out a soft breath, a sigh, like we’d been holding it in forever.
His stubble scraped my cheek in the most delicious way. His hands gripped the back of my jacket tight enough to nearly lift me off the ground. His taste. His scent. The overwhelming sense of him—
It blurred the edges of me.
I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
And I knew—deep in my bones—that I’d never get enough of this.
Fuck.
I wrapped my other hand around John’s neck as his mouth parted wider—our tongues meeting in greedy pushes and long, hungry strokes. My body felt untethered, floating as want built with every passing second. John groaned into the kiss, sinking deeper. I wanted to feel all of him.
We stumbled backward into the dark.
A moment later, my back hit the door—John had shoved it closed.
His palm rested beside my head. The other gripped a fistful of my hair, holding me in place.
I leaned in, chasing his mouth, but his fingers tightened at the base of my skull.
A gasp tore from my lips at the sensation. My knees nearly gave out.
The only sounds were our shallow breaths and the roaring in my ears. The night was complete in here, save for the shape of John’s massive body surrounding me.
“I thought you said one kiss,” he said, voice rough—so much deeper, so much thicker than I’d ever heard it.
A slow, wicked smile tugged at my mouth. I wondered if he could see it. “I didn’t say where,” I whispered. Drunk-Nora was fearless.
He let out a pained groan, half-laugh, half-surrender. “You’ll be the death of me.”
I shifted restlessly, and John pressed his full weight against me, flattening me to the door. One long leg slid between mine. I couldn’t move—he was everywhere. His thigh pressed higher, rubbing right there, and for a moment, I forgot my own name.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed into my neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Then he kissed them away.
I slipped my hands under his shirt, fingers roaming the hot skin of his back, feeling the taut shift of muscle beneath my palms. I pulled him closer. Telling him exactly what I wanted.
Instead of obeying, he pulled back just slightly. Still holding me firm. His whole body tense. I feared, for one terrible second, that he’d let go. Send me outside into the night. Leaving me burning. Again. Leaving me ashamed. Again.
“We really shouldn’t do this,” he said, voice cracking. “You…” He swallowed. “I’m worried you’ll hate me.”
“I’m a big girl,” I whispered. “I can take it.”
My body—traitorous body—arched into him, desperate to close every inch between us. I should have felt embarrassed by how badly I wanted him. But I didn’t.
John shook his head. “I may not be able to forgive myself if we do this.” His thumb skimmed along my jaw, his gaze following the motion.
“Why?”
I didn’t want to know. Not really. I just wanted to kiss him until I couldn’t remember the question. Until I had no air left to breathe.
But he shook his head again. Secrets clung to him—even now.
“I should go then.”
I was baiting him. Daring him to be reckless with me. Wanting him to want me enough to say to hell with it. But at the same time, I knew he was right.
It’s easier to douse a flame than to suffocate a wildfire.
And kissing him…might have been the worst mistake I’d ever made.
John’s lips parted. I braced myself. Any moment now, he’d tell me to leave.