But my brain? My brain knew better. This is Garrett we’re talking about. He wasn’t jealous I was dating Joseph. If he feels the same way toward me that I feel for him, wouldn’t he have been jealous? Even a little?
Heaving out a you’ve-got-to-get-over-Garrett huff, I walk out the bathroom and head for the living room. The world outside the window is dark now, but the tall lamp by the wall casts the space in a cozy glow. Since my apartment faces the mountains and not another building, I leave the curtains open and pick up my book from the coffee table.
I make myself comfy on the couch and start reading the romance novel from where I left off.
A rapping on my apartment door startles me during a particularly spicy scene in the book. No one buzzed to get into the building, so it’s probably sweet Mrs. Lindsay from down the hall. I’m not exactly dressed for visitors, but she won’t care. It’s not the first time she has come to my apartment because she was lonely and wanted someone to talk to.
I unfold from the couch, my body having grown stiff again, the benefit of the hot shower diminishing.
The stiffness loosens a little by the time I make it to the door. The rapping comes once more, and I open the door without looking through the peephole first.
Ireallyshould have looked through the peephole first.
The last person I expected to see is standing in my doorway, looking breath-stealing as always. He has changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and one of his old Marine T-shirts that show off his very fine specimen of a body.
I try not to drool—because that would be awkward.
“Hi?” I reverse a step into the apartment, letting Garrett in. He shuts the door behind him.
Something is slightly off about him. It’s the look I’ve seen in his eyes when he’s feeling unsettled, moments before he starts pacing. “I think we need to kiss again.” He says it so straightforwardly, like it’s a fact. Like the moon orbits the Earth; the Earth revolves around the sun.
“Er…” is the only answer I can formulate.
I’m not sure kissing again is a good idea. My heart might not be able to come back from that.
I might be thinking those things, but my mouth doesn’t want to put voice to the words. My heart stutters and my lips part a fraction of an inch.
Without meaning to, I close the gap between us. The heat of his body, the scent of his soap, caress me with a whisper. Encourage me. Beckon me. Plead for me not to walk away.
I lean in a little more, until there’s hardly space between us, and lick my suddenly dry lips. I should pull away, shouldn’t give in to my body’s craving.
Garrett’s eyes track the movement, the rich brown of his irises growing darker. It feels like he’s reaching inside me, searching for secrets hidden within my soul. Sifting through the debris left after he picked one of my close friends instead of me.
My breath shudders and stumbles; my breasts heave. The tips of my nipples graze Garrett’s chest, the touch light but enough to cause them to sensually tighten. I bite back a moan.
We still for a heartbeat, and I absorb every second of this moment. Then Garrett erases the remaining distance, and his lips meet mine.
The kiss lasts longer than the accidental brushing of lips, but he pulls away before I can let him in.
I really want to let him in.
He stares at me for a beat, and his gaze drops to my T-shirt. The T-shirt I forgot I was wearing…without a bra. The T-shirt that is thinner than the ones I wear outside my apartment—and is showing off my now taut nipples.
A light blush creeps across Garrett’s face, and he reverses a step, his eyes flicking up to mine. “I…I should go.” He gropes for the doorknob and yanks the door open.
I fold my arms across my chest, praying this moment can’t get any more awkward. Clearly, Garrett didn’t enjoy the kiss. As far as he’s concerned, it was a mistake and he can’t get away fast enough.
But while he might have thought it was a mistake, my body has a different opinion. Every inch of my skin tingles with unleashed electricity. Every inch of my skin craves to be touched the way my lips were. A slow exploration. A lit match to the fuse.
“It was nice seeing you again,” I say lamely and watch him disappear into the stairwell.
26
ZARA
Ten daysafter the kiss Garrett couldn’t escape fast enough from, I’m sitting fully clothed on the exam table and waiting for the rheumatologist to return.
Ten days of Garrett and me pretending he didn’t drive to my apartment and kiss me. Pretending the three times we saw each other—which was never just the two of us alone—I wasn’t disappointed the kiss hadn’t been more than the brushing of lips. That our tongues hadn’t become intimately acquainted.
