Page 37 of Wild Promise

“How so?”

Her gaze dropped to her lap, and the slight show of insecurity hooked around my heart. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not quite the social butterfly you are. I don’t have the time or energy to focus on much more than work and my family, but even if I did, I don’t think I’d know how to be so…so…”

“Slutty?”

She broke into a huge grin, her eyes finally coming back to meet mine. “I was going to say outgoing.”

“Ah, well.” I huffed an uncomfortable laugh. This conversation was already too fucking deep. “There can only be one life of every party.”

She sat straighter, her hand pressing over my chest. “I’m serious. You’re so effortless with people, and everyone loves you.”

“It’s not effortless.” I trailed my fingers over the back of her hand. “Trust me, there’s a hell of a lot of effort that goes into being the fun guy everyone expects me to be. They may all love me, but not many of them really know me. If they did, they’d see I’m not always so much fun to be around. I have my down days, too.”

“We all have those days.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and that hold she had on my heart pulled harder.

“Yes, we do. Some more than others. But I think it’s human nature to pretend we’re okay even when we’re not. It’s hard to let people in when we’re suffering. That shit is scary.” I swallowed hard, waiting for her reaction.

Had I just cracked the door open too wide?

“They can hear the smile in your voice,” she murmured, her eyes glassing over.

The pads of my fingers met the velvet skin of her cheek, and I tried to soothe the troubled look on her beautiful face. “Sorry, I don’t follow.”

“It’s something my mother used to say. I never really knew what she meant, until I lost her. But I feel like I’m wearing a fake smile a lot these days, and I do it because I’m sick of showing the world all my cuts and bruises. I’m tired of all the pity that comes along with the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?” I traced my fingers down, over the bow of her lips. “What are you hiding under that gorgeous smile?”

She frowned, and somehow the look was even more captivating than the carefree awe she’d worn earlier. “More trouble than you want to know.”

“Oh, I don’t know…I think I might like getting into trouble with you.” I glided my fingers down the soft column of her throat, hooking them lightly in the top of her sweater and running my knuckles over her collarbone.

Her breath caught. Her eyes widened. And the intensity of her stare made my heart hammer so hard I could feel it in my throat. My skin felt too tight, my chest too narrow, my whole body flooded with sensation. One smoldering look and I was ready to rip her clothes off.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

At least, not tonight.

“Zane?” Her voice was husky—half lust, half uncertainty—and it matched the feeling swirling through my gut. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” Because fuck, I really didn’t have a clue.

I wanted something I had no right to, didn’t deserve, and could probably never earn. A thing that should have me running the other way. I might not know anything about relationships or commitments, but as I stared into her weighty gaze, I knew if she asked, I’d dive right in.

She bit at the inside of her lips, seeming to ponder my answer, and the hand she held over my heart closed around my shirt in a tight fist.

“Damn, you make it hard to think straight.”

Her words hit hard against the restraint I’d been barely clinging to. My desire for her finally taking over. “Maybe we should stop thinking and just feel for a while.”

That was all it took.

She lifted to her knees and straddled my lap. Her mouth came down on mine, hot and urgent, and every rational thought I’d ever had went up in smoke.

I kissed her back with everything I had—lips, tongue, and teeth. Greedy and reckless and not giving a single fuck about restraint anymore. Her hands slid down my chest and back up into my hair, pulling hard enough to sting, her nails raking over my scalp. Every place she touched felt like it was catching fire.

And fuck, I was ready to burn.

My tongue stroked over hers, and even though I’d done this more times than I could count, nothing had ever felt like this. Like kissing her was a first. My real first. The beginning of something I didn’t know how to navigate. Only that I didn’t want it to end.