And honestly, he’s the perfect person to explore with. I don’t know this man and he doesn’t know me. I’ll see him at the wedding tomorrow, but after that, I’m sure we’ll never interact again. This could be the perfect opportunity to start my journey back into the land of being single. Thomas can be my guide for tonight, my bridge to the other side, my palate cleanser to wash away the sour taste of Étienne.
I just have to be brave. I have to be the woman Thomas thinks I am—who IknowI am underneath the hurt and heartbreak.
“Considering we no longer have an audience and I’m still here with you,” I say, mind made up, “I think you have your answer.” I shift so my leg presses against the side of his hand and my lips are at his ear. There’s no mistaking my intentions now. “I want it to be real.”
I watch the line of his throat as he swallows, unable to bring myself to see what’s in his eyes, needing to hear it instead. “It’s your turn to tell me what you want,” I murmur once a beat passes without his answer. Only then do I look up. It’s a relief to find him staring at my mouth.
“I want to kiss you.” The confession is a deep rasp, and the tip of his tongue drags across his bottom lip before disappearing again. “Very badly.”
That’s all it takes for the little spark inside me to flare. “So do it.”
Unfortunately, the words clear away some of the haze in his eyes, like it’s exactly what he needed to hear to come back to his senses.
His smile is soft as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, fingers trailing down my neck until they rest on my shoulder.“You’re drunk.” His thumb strokes my collarbone, like even though he’s trying to shut this down, he can’t move away. “We shouldn’t.”
It would sting more if he weren’t fighting with himself, but even still, a thread of desperation weaves its way through my chest. I won’t beg a man to want me—not anymore—but I’m not above pushing back.
“I’m not nearly drunk enough, believe me,” I counter, lifting my chin. We’re already so close, it wouldn’t take much for either of us to reduce the gap to nothing. “You?”
“The same.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Someone could see.”
I draw back a little, the blow landing hard. Does he not want to be seen with me? Am I a liability to his reputation?
What a useless question. Of course I am. I’m that woman who lost her shit for the whole internet to see. Not that he knows about that, but still. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want to be associated with me. If I were him, I probably wouldn’t want to be either.
God, I should have known better than to believe this could actually turn into something tonight. I might as well be tainted and he knows it.
“Does that bother you?” I challenge sharply.
His eyes soften when he realizes how I’ve taken his words, and he lifts a hand to cup the back of my neck, keeping me from going any farther. “Not for the reason you seem to be thinking. It’s not about you.”
The reassurance takes the edge off the hurt, but it still aches like an old bruise that’s been pressed on. I cover it up with sarcasm. “Don’t tell me you’re a mind reader on top of being a driver.”
“I can’t expose all my talents, now, can I?” Before I can banter back, he says, low and quiet, “I’m just trying to protect you.”
Something in my stomach tightens and drops dangerously between my legs. This appearance of the alpha male act shouldn’t turn me on, but I’ll be damned if I say it doesn’t. “Protect me?” I scoff. “From what exactly?”
“Some of my fans are a little…intense,” he explains, choosing his words carefully. “If they find out about this, they’ll know everything about you in five seconds flat. I don’t want you to face more scrutiny. You’ve been through enough.”
It’s so considerate that I almost want to slap him. I make do with sliding my palm up his thigh instead. If he wants bold, he’ll get it.
“You’re talking like you’re a member of a boy band with rabid fangirls. Calm down, knockoff Harry Styles.”
The hand on the back of my neck pulls me closer. It’s a rough touch, almost a yank, but it’s just shy of being too much. Either way, it sends a flood of heat to the apex of my thighs.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he whispers, a hairsbreadth from my lips.
“Shut up and kiss me, Harry.”
It’s a ghost of a kiss when he finally closes the distance. A brushing of lips, up once, then down. Nothing more than a tease. I would pull back and scold him, tell him to kiss me like he fucking means it, but he’s left me with nowhere to go. The hand on my neck is firm, and I suddenly realize thatI’mthe one being toyed with now. I’m the prey. And he’s not going to let go until he’s taken what he wants.
I’m close to whining in dismay, close to second-guessing what we’re doing and the choices that led me here. But then his mouth finally settles against mine, and all my doubts go up in smoke.
If that first touch was just a taste, then this is the main course. I open for him when his tongue sweeps across my lower lip, but that’s the last bit of control I’m allowed. Not that it matters, because the second his tongue presses against mine, I lose the ability to form a coherent thought.
