Just for writing me notes? Or did he use them at work too?
After keying my birthday at the front door, I stepped inside and slammed the door shut.
The idea of him giving anyone else one of these made me homicidal even if they weren’t….
Weren’t like mine.
I propped my board in the corner and frowned at myself. I didn’t know what to do with this. With him.
Going straight to my bedroom, I pulled the new note out of my pocket and put Adair’s number in my phone.
But I didn’t text him.
I wasn’t sure why. Because even if we hadn’t.…
Shaking my head, I kicked my bedroom door shut and sat on the edge of my bed, clutching the note in one hand and my phone in the other.
This wasn’t a big deal.
It didn’t need to be a big deal.
Even if we hadn’t kissed, it was smart for us to have each other’s numbers. It was actually dumb that we hadn’t exchanged them yet, given our circumstances.
Kissed.
That word was too small for what’d gone down in the Cadillac.
Falling back onto my bed, I stared at the rotating ceiling fan.
It’d been almost two years since I’d been kissed. Since I’d indulged inanythingclose to it.
And that fact could not have been more irrelevant in the wake of being kissed by Adair Jacks. Of feeling his body respond to my touch.
Because the way he’d put his mouth on mine? There was nothing to compare it to.
And then there were the soundshe’d made.God, the sounds. Masculine and needy at the same time.
Closing my eyes, I replayed it for the hundredth time in the two days since.
I hadn’t needed to tell him what I wanted, hadn’t needed to find words to express my deep desire to not be in charge all the time. To not have to make every decision.
When I thought about it, which was a fucking lot, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d read me so well. I’d never met a man so attuned to the needs of others around him. When the house got low on something, he got it. Every time Delly almost forgot her ID on the way to work, he grabbed it.
When he saw me working with a notepad and my phone in the evenings, he’d given me his laptop without a word.
The fringe benefit of that particular act of consideration was that it added the element of extra productivity to my two-day-long marathon of worrying while horny.
By this morning, I thought I was maybe on my way to being less haunted by it all.
But then came the elevator. And the suckers. Then the note.
His adorably blue smile that, on anyone else, might’ve been childish. Off-putting. Butno. Not on him.
So, yeah. I could give him my number. The least I could do, really.
Turning onto my side, I opened a new text.
This is Ireland.
