And then she moves. One second we’re just looking at each other,and the next she’s grabbing my face and kissing me like it hurts her not to.
It’s hot, fast, and messy. It’s as if she’s punishing me for every reason she’s used to push me away. And maybe I shouldn’t love how warm her lips are on mine.
But I kiss her back, hard, because I’ve been waiting to feel her skin on mine ever since I stepped off the plane. She smells like hope and kisses me like I’m the only man in the world.
Her fingers grip the front of my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life, and when I pull her into my arms, she doesn’t fight me. I could get used to her shapely body pressed against mine, and I welcome it like she’s my Stanley Cup ring I’ve been waiting for. I want her to know what it’s like to be adored. And when she melts into me like this, it’s the most incredible feeling in the world, because in this moment, she’s letting me in.
When we finally break apart, breathless and aching, her voice is barely a whisper.“I don’t trust this.”
“I know,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “But you will.”
14
KATE
BODY FIRST, HEART LATER
He wants me?
I barely have time to catch my breath after the kiss. My phone keeps beeping, and the press is apparently camped outside my hotel, and whatever the hell this thing with him is turning into. Is there a pause button? Because this is moving fast, and I feel like I’m sprinting, constantly, just to keep up.
Will I ever trustthis?
I’m not prepared for marriage and commitment. I have my career, and a man will slow me down. I can’t have feelings for him. I don’t trust myself to make decisions that will be in my best interest, rather than his. And then there’s the cold-hearted fact that our careers will pull us in opposite directions.
How is this going to work?
This is a roller coaster of madness. I should run, but I can’t. He’s a magnet, and my defenses have dwindled. It’s like I’m standing on quicksand, immobilized by his eyes that sparkle and chiseled chin, not to mention his hard body and eight-pack abs-yes, eight. I swear he’s the type of man who would be happy to be bested at anything.
He’s so smooth that he talks circles around me, and I let him. It felt good, though, too good. Too real. Him, me, us.
There is a bridge of silence between us. And then he says, “Move in with me.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me,” he states, his deep voice like a mafia kingpin, and it’s kinda sexy.
We’re still in my room backstage, and I can’t remember my name anymore. My skin’s still buzzing from the lights, the crowd, the rush of performing. And now this?
“I love Nashville,” I blurt. “My life’s there.”
He doesn’t flinch. “We can’t fake this if you’re living in another state.”His voice is calm. Unshakeable. Like he’s already solved the puzzle. “The press will have a field day. This is what it’s like to live in the era of social media. There’s only so much you can do without it showing up somewhere.”
I chew the inside of my lip, thinking.
“I’ll pay the rent on your apartment for the year,” he adds. “No reason not to move in with me.”
I open my mouth. When nothing comes out, I shut it. I’m utterly speechless. I’ve never had a man pick up the tab for anything besides a burger and fries. And maybe a snow cone at the state fair.
Is this an insane idea? Absolutely. But am I also flattered, rattled, and a little bit dizzy by how generous he is? Alsoyes.
“I’m on the road all summer,” I say, half in protest. I love throwing up obstacles. I can’t help myself. I’m doing everything I can to scare him away before I have feelings.
“I’ll be there,” he says. Just like that. Like it’s obvious. “But there’s a charity event next week we need to attend. But I’ll get you where you need to go. We’re figuring it out.”
But he’s sexy as hell, and I’m not made of kryptonite. I can only fight so much. And the way he makes promises, like it’s easy, he’s convincing. I want to believe him.
Everything’s changing too fast.
