When You Are Mine(13)

"Oh, Walsh." Tears soaked her words. She leaned forward to hug him awkwardly, the edge of the bed separating them.

He pulled her closer, forcing her to climb onto the edge of the bed on  her knees. She pulled his head into the crook of her neck. His tears wet  the shoulder of her denim jacket and her own tears trekked down her  cheeks. She wanted to tear down the childish drawings on the walls. To  pop the cheery balloons floating above them. To knock over the vases  holding flowers from those who'd been pulling for Iyani. Instead, she  just rocked back and forth as Walsh held her, for how long she didn't  know. His tears stopped, but she knew he was drawing as much solace from  her as she was from the warm surrounding strength of his arms.

"Are you okay?" She finally drew back just enough to see his face.

Even though he sat in the center of the bed, legs crossed, and she was  on her knees in front of him, his superior height left her only a few  inches above him. Her arms hung loosely over the muscles of his broad  shoulders. She stroked the closely cropped waves at the back of his  head, soft and cool beneath her fingers. He dropped a thick fan of  lashes over his grief-darkened eyes and lowered his forehead to her  shoulder, turning into her neck. He inhaled.

"Vanilla." His warm breath misted her neck with that one word, inciting  goose bumps across the skin. "You always smell like vanilla."

Her smile shook, and she started to pull away, but his hands tightened  on her waist. He leaned up, tilting his head and brushing his firm lips  across her slightly open mouth. At the brief contact, liquid fire rushed  down her nerve endings. His kiss was a feather and a flame, raising  goose bumps and heating her skin. Something blossomed in her chest,  unfurling and straining toward him. She pressed closer, defenseless  against sensations she'd never experienced with anyone before. One of  Walsh's strong hands left her waist, reaching for her chin to bring her  face closer. The velvet of his tongue traced the still-drying tears on  her cheeks before returning to her mouth, now clamped closed against the  temptation of his.

"Open." Walsh gave the gentle command. An intimate invitation. An irresistible dare.

Sanity was a fugitive on the run from reason. Her mouth fell open. He  wasted no time, plunging in to plunder, devouring her with unchecked  hunger. He groaned, sending the hand at her waist on an expedition  across the curve of her hip to grip the firm sleekness of the bare thigh  beneath her dress.

"Kerris." His voice seemed to have fallen octaves, its deep timbre inspiring her to shudder. "Tell me to stop."

"Stop." Her hands made a lie of the weak plea. She pressed them to the  strong vein in his neck. Urging him to continue. Pulling him closer.

"Not very convincing," he whispered, pulling her head down to hover over  his open lips, luring her to close the space between their mouths.

Heat crawled up between them, their lips and tongues tangling. Walsh  reached up, fingers fumbling at the buttons of the denim jacket Kerris  wore over her dress. The jacket fell open. Walsh reached one hand behind  her to press the softness of her back, almost spanning the narrow  expanse of it. His fingers slid under the spaghetti straps of the dress,  caressing her shoulder, trailing down to stroke the soft curves beneath  her dress. Her breasts tightened with a pleasure so acute it bordered  on pain. Kerris gasped, pulling back abruptly. They both panted, his  breath heavy and hot on her kiss-swollen lips, rising from the dying  flame of that kiss.                       
       
           



       

Her passion-clouded eyes slowly cleared. Sanity made a belated reappearance.

"Oh, gosh." She scooted back to put distance between them, and then slid off the bed altogether.

"Um, that was bad. It was … an accident." Her hand covered the throbbing fullness of her mouth.

"It's an accident when cars collide." The remnants of desire hoarsened  Walsh's voice. "When lips collide it's a kiss. That wasn't an accident,  and we need to talk about it."

"No, we don't." She fumbled through rebuttoning her jacket, fingers  shaking. She closed her eyes for a few erratic heartbeats, struggling to  rein in her body's response. She was a running engine slowly cooling  down. "We have to forget that happened. It was … Iyani, and we were  comforting each other, and the emotions got out of control  and … misplaced."

"Is that how you'll explain it to Cam?"

"Cam!" Panic expelled the name from her mouth with the report of a  bullet. "You absolutely cannot tell Cam. He wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't, either." He stretched out one arm to pull her to him by the front of her jacket.

"No, Walsh." The words stilled in her throat when she realized he was  simply redoing the buttons she had misfastened in her clumsy rush. "Oh,  thanks."

"So, you don't plan to tell Cam?" Walsh's hand fell away, his mouth a  straight and narrow line. His fist clenched on his knee, making his calm  tone a lie. His eyes never strayed from her cowboy boots.

"No, and neither can you. Look at me."

He met her eyes head on.

"Neither can you, Walsh." That bore repeating. "Cam seems mild-mannered, but he's so … "

"Possessive?" He paired the word with a frown.

"I guess, but most of all because it would hurt him unnecessarily. You have to see that."

"Do I?" A skeptical brow lifted. "I don't think that's the right way to  handle it. I think we should be honest with Cam and with ourselves."

"What do you mean by ‘with ourselves'?"

"Kerris, I can't promise it won't happen again." His voice was  sandpaper. Rough. Abrasive. "This is serious. Cam's asked you to marry  him."

"And you don't think I should? Is that it? Am I not good enough for Cam?"

"What?" A storm cloud gathered on his face. "I never said that. I don't  think that. Don't try to smokescreen me by putting words in my mouth. If  you marry Cam, and this doesn't go away … "

"What doesn't go away?" She directed the soft words to her boots, unable to meet his still-steaming eyes.

He lifted her chin with one thumb, caressing the line of her jaw with his index finger.

"Kerris, can you deny there's something between us?"

"An attraction?"

"Okay, if that's what you want to call it, yeah. An attraction."

"Walsh, you're an attractive guy. These were difficult, emotional circumstances, and we got carried away."

"I don't know. I just … "

"Do you love Cam?" she asked, stowing her emotions behind an impassive  face. Walsh's friendship with Cam was her trump card. Maybe her only  card.

"Of course. You know he's the brother I never had."

"Do you want to put a strain on that relationship over a kiss that meant  nothing?" She poured all her nervousness into the fingers plucking at  her dress, but kept her face placid.

"Nothing?" His narrowed eyes locked on hers. "You're telling me what just happened meant nothing to you?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." She nodded vigorously, one long braid slithering over her shoulder.

"Then you're right. There's nothing to tell."

"Great."

"Right."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"All right." She shifted her weight from one boot to the other. "I'm gonna go then."

She headed toward the door, stopping at the sight of Iyani's brightly  colored papers taped to the wall by the light switch. She had drawn  herself between Kerris and Walsh, holding their hands. Kerris looked  back over her shoulder at Walsh. He sat in the same spot on the bed. He  had pulled the leather bracelet onto his strong wrist and was tracing  the wooden blocks spelling Iyani's name. She pressed her lips together  to stem the trembling, swiping at the one hot tear that streaked down  her face.                       
       
           



       

"I really am so sorry, Walsh." She blinked back fresh tears. "About Iyani, I mean."

Kerris wasn't sure if he didn't hear or ignored her, but he didn't lift  his eyes again. She didn't know if that kiss had begun one thing or  destroyed another. The attraction between them, an undercurrent all  summer, had broken the surface with violence and heat. She'd never  forget the feeling that exploded inside of her, his touch tripping an  invisible wire only he had discovered. Those sensations had been hidden  treasures in her own body, and her insides still hummed and buzzed. No  matter how good it felt, what happened could never happen again. Should  never have happened at all.