It’s because I was hoping for this moment. The one where she walked away from Paul.
Her eyes rake over my face. They’re vivid and green and curious, and they spare me nothing. The car feels tiny right now, my face heating under her scrutiny. My whole body heating. All those things I wanted to avoid—the scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body, the lush curves of her tits, deliciously visible in the V of her shirt—they’re all here, and I try not to but my gaze drops to the fullness of her lips, the corners sloping up in response, and when I look back at her eyes, they’re on my mouth.
I don’t know which of us moves first, but my hands find her face and hers tunnel into my hair, and when I set my mouth to hers it’s like touching a match to autumn leaves; we both go up in flames.
She whimpers, and everything in me leaps in recognition. I did that to her, that sound is forme, she wants this. I kiss her hungrily, cupping the softness of her cheeks. I tease her lips until they open for me on another whimper, and her tongue sneaks out, finding mine, flirting and then stroking. It’s my turn to make a sound. A grunt, then a groan as we angle our heads and the kiss deepens again, and she huffs out a breath in response and grips my hair tighter.
I need more of her, I need her now. I try to draw her closer, but everything’s in the way—the shape of the seats, the gearshift between us, and bit by slow painful bit I’m pulled out of the moment and back to reality: We’re in a car outside Paul’s ex-girlfriend’s house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota; Eden’s a jilted bride, I’m her wedding planner who used to be her husband’s divorce attorney; I’m Hanna’s brother who was supposed to make this all okay?—
I draw back abruptly.
“God, Eden, I’m sorry!”
Her lids are heavy, her eyes hazy, her pupils blown, but as soon as my words penetrate, her gaze focuses sharply on my face and color flares up in her cheeks. “You’re—sorry?”
“You just got jilted, you’re hurt and angry, and I’m taking advantage?—”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Is that what you think this is? You taking advantage? Because I’m pretty sure I’m the one who kissed you. And damn straight I’m angry. I’m angry at Paul for being an asshole, I’m angry at myself for playing my life safe after Teller…” She glares at me. “And now I’m angry at you, for treating me like I don’t know my own mind. Because I do. I’ve been wanting that for?—”
She stops.
We’re both breathing hard, staring each other down. The pressure in my chest, the swirl of emotions I can’t sort out makes it hard to catch my breath. It’s not anger, not exactly, more like fear that I’ve blown this—whateverthisis, that I’ve made things worse for her. That I’m like my dad or Aunt Meryl’s ex-husband or Hanna’s deadbeat father or Teller Austin or Paul Graves orme. Men who act on impulse, who take what—who—they need and discard women when they’re done. When all I want is to bebetter. For her.
And I know what better looks like in this situation.
“We’ve only known each other two days,” I say. “That’s all. And I’m—I’m not a good bet, Eden. My own dad is a user. The other men in my life aren’t good role models. And the only other relationship I’ve ever attempted?—”
Her eyes move over my face. “A serious relationship?” she asks.
I nod.
“When?”
“A few years ago. Fay. She was someone I’d known in law school, and we ran into each other in the courthouse, grabbed a cup of coffee, and hit it off.”
Eden nods. “Did she hurt you?” she asks.
She doesn’t sound angry anymore. Her voice is soft. Her eyes are soft.
“No,” I say. “I hurt her. Badly. I thought I could do it—marry her. Be with her. We’d even looked at rings. I thought I could overcome what I’d seen my dad and uncle do—but I couldn’t. I broke it off, right when she thought I was going to propose. She was wrecked.” I take a deep breath. “You were giving me shit the other day about not believing in marriage like it was Santa Claus or something, but the truth is I don’t believe. Not for me, not long term. And I couldn’t live that lie with her, knowing I could already see the ending.”
She bites her lip.
“I’m not sorry I kissed you,” I tell her. “Or that you kissed me. Hell no. Not even a little.” I let her see the truth of that on my face, and her eyes darken. It makes me want to kiss her again, a need so fierce I almost give in to it. But I don’t. Because being yet another man who hurt Eden would kill me.
“I’m not sorry I kissed you, but it can’t happen again.”
Her chest is still rising and falling fast, and I make myself look away, from the silky pale curve of her tits, from her peaked nipples, from all the evidence of what that kiss made her feel, but it’s printed on my body. I’m hard as nails, and I want to kiss her again. I want to haul her into the back seat and bear her down into the upholstery. I want to be on her and over her and, fuck, yes, inside her.
Beingbetteris shitty work sometimes.
She’s quiet. Her breathing slows, gradually. Then she sighs. “You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me. Taking all those big feelings out on you. It doesn’t mean—” She takes a deep breath. “I wanted to kiss you. Istillwant to kiss you. But I should probably…I know I need to…”
I wait, steeling myself, because whatever comes at the end of that sentence, it’s not more kissing and it’s definitely not fucking her in the back seat of this car.
“I need to give myself some time.”
26
