Never Been Kissed(47)

“I-I... I don’t want...What?” SHIT.

“Good answer, baby. Now, bring that sweet mouth closer, and let me kiss you.”





My nerves are live wires, sparking and spitting energy. My throat’s dry, my gaze going fuzzy as his mouth gets closer and closer to mine. Right now, in this moment, Hunter’s my world.

I breathe in his scent, the way it winds around in my chest, making my heart squeeze down and triple its timing. His big, warm hands stay on my face, and the way he holds me – like I’m worth being held with the gentlest of touches – has another sweet ache furrowing in my chest. Breath is a thing of the past - I’m concentrated only on what will happen next – when and how long his lips will be in contact with mine.

His breath tickles my lips and it hits me that we’re sharing air, as close as two people can be. I’m suspended in this moment, the beat of my heart the only music I can hear. I’m not sure what’s happening on the TV, or the rest of the room. I’m blind, deaf and mute – waiting, waiting, waiting for him to kiss me.

A kiss I’ve been waiting for all my life.

I’ve blanked on all my protests; I can’t think. Hunter’s initiated me into this world where feeling is the one true law, like gravity. Instead, my language will come out in touch, like the way my thumbs are still grazing the insides of his wrists on either hand. Or the way my mouth waters to taste him.

I want. I’m crazed with it that I can’t think enough to stop this – to stop the hurt that will come when he’s done with me.

“Daddy!” Matty’s alarmed call comes from his room. “Dad?!”

I jerk, wrenching my head out of his hands. The residual warmth stays on my cheeks, even as I order my hands to unwind themselves from his wrists. They’re having trouble listening to me – assholes.

“G-Go...” I sound like I’ve gone and swallowed gravel, my voice husky and soft. Hunter’s hands twitch, like he just might pull me back and kiss me anyway. God, I know I’ll let him, I’ll let him do anything he wants.

That’s why I can’t let it happen. I’m going to be torn to pieces, and whatever game he’s playing here, I’m going to be the idiot who gets checkmated. No, thanks.

With a frustrated sound deep in his throat, Hunt gets up from the couch, jostling me with his agitated movements. I hear murmuring in Matty’s room.

I take the coward’s way out – I grab my keys and get out of here.

I’ve never been brave a day in my life – I just slog through, like everyone else. Why would someone like Hunter MacLaine want me? Maybe he needs some sort of medication for his mental health.

Back in my bed, I wait for yet another one of Hunter’s calls to go to voicemail. He stops after the ninth try, and I finally let myself fall asleep, hiding my phone under the sheets so I’m not tempted to listen to his messages.

I have to stay away from him. This is all some sick cosmic joke, God or something out there, taunting me with what I can’t have and shoving it in my face over and over again.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try and think of anything – even Jaws to try to get him out of my mind. He’s branded me with his touch, poisoned me with his words of wanting me. He’s infected me; I’m plagued by his words, by the way he touched me. I twist and turn in my sheets, even getting up to drink a cold glass of water.

Sleep won’t come. Work is so going to suck.



***



I may not look like a zombie from The Walking Dead but my lack of focus sure makes me as dumb as one. I only leave the memories of Hunter touching my cheeks, bringing his face closer to mine when Katie drags her cup of coffee under my nose, the smell of caffeine bringing me back to reality.

“I didn’t take you out for lunch to have you ignore me the whole time, Sera.” Katie says, signalling to our waiter to come over. She orders me a cup of coffee, and a ice-cream slathered brownie that we’ll share for dessert. I’m about to tell her my ass doesn’t need the extra fat when the lifting of her eyebrows has my stomach clenching tight.

I’m in for it.

“What is going on with you? You’ve been my best friend for years, and now all of a sudden, you haven’t texted me in three days – so I can know you’re alive? Damn it, Delos, I thought the hottie neighbour had kidnapped you or something.”

I push at my dressing-drenched lettuce with my fork, making dressing art on my plate. I really need that coffee.

“And you’re so distracted I don’t even think you’re listening to me.”

“I’m listening,” I say, feeling a little guilty. “I’m just not in the mood to talk, you know?” I look up from my plate in time for our waiter to put our dessert in front of us with two new forks. I say bye to my leftover salad, and grab my coffee with both hands, staring down at the black liquid like it’ll give me the answers to my life (it’s not 42).