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And I know I should just wait here with the engine running, wait until she gets safely inside.
That I should then go home.
Go back to what we’ve been doing.
Separate. Better. Safer.
But I jab at the button on the dashboard, turn off the engine.
And open my door, walk up the path to the front door.
Then reach past her and push at the buttons on the keypad when I see her struggling with it like always, misclicking the buttons, forgetting to hit the pound sign, getting too impatient and making the lights flash as the lock resets.
Her gasp when my body comes close, when my hands brush hers away, is quiet, barely audible over the lock as I finish tapping the buttons and it whirs open.
I wrap my fingers around the handle, turn it, and shove the door open.
Now I should leave.
Instead, I move past her into the house.
She doesn’t follow me, not for a long moment as I toe off my shoes, move down into the hall and into the kitchen. Eventually, though, I hear the sound of her footsteps on the floor, hear the door close, the lock clicking as it engages.
And then she’s walking into the kitchen, looking like a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away.
I inhale sharply, stomach twisting, bile in my throat.
She pauses by the sink, leans back against the counter, and…silence descends.
I expect her to break it.
I expect me to break it.
But it just stays there between us, a stifling, smothering blanket until I feel like I can’t breathe.
And maybe that’s why I do what I do next.
Maybe that’s why I walk across the room, tug Brit into my arms…
Why I slant my lips over hers.
And feel like—for the first time in months—I can actually breathe.
Twelve
Brit
This is right.
This is everything as it should be.
Soft lips, a sleek tongue, the brush of a beard on my cheeks, my jaw, my chin.
A warm hand sliding up my back, wrapping around my nape, tilting my head back and tasting me deeper.
Slick darts of our tongues, my hands going to his shoulders, gripping tightly. His arm bands around my waist and one quick movement has me up onto the counter, the cold sinking through my leggings, chilling my skin.
But his body is hard and hot and that flash of discomfort is just that.
