CHAPTER TWELVE
RILEY
I’mshakenoutofmy shock when I realize Addison is standing up, and my hand shoots out to stop her. “Don’t go,” I plea, clutching her wrist.
She looks as dazed as I feel, even though she’s the one who...who was about to kiss me. She was about to kiss me.
And I wanted her to.
I did. But in the moment, I panicked.
Now she’s standing over me and sliding her hand out of my grasp. “I’m sorry. I read everything wrong. I thought—But I shouldn’t have—I’ll just, uh...”
“Don’t go,” I say again. “Please. Please stay.”
Her eyes scan the room—like maybe I could be talking to someone else—before landing back on me, confusion swirling in the warm brown depths. “But...”
I stand, coming around the piano bench so we’re on the same side. I reach for her again, slower, less frantic this time. More deliberate. And when I curl my fingers around her wrist, she doesn’t pull away. “You didn’t read it wrong.”
“I didn’t?” Her voice comes out breathless now.
Shaking my head, my heart pounding out a scary rhythm, I find thecourage to admit the truth. “No, you didn’t. I want to. But I can’t here, okay?”
I’ve learned my lesson about kissing in public spaces. Even if the likelihood of someone walking in here is very low.
She came in, though. She found me. I didn’t know I needed to be found, but I’m starting to think I did. I’m starting to think she found me in more ways than one.
“Will you come up to my room with me?” I ask. My heart is still beating too fast, but I can feel her pulse through her wrist, and it’s fast too. That’s comforting, knowing I’m not in this big, nerve-wracking moment alone.
For a few seconds, she doesn’t say anything. But her skin is warm under my touch, and somehow, it starts to calm me. It causes a warmth to travel up my own arm and to my chest, where it swirls around and mixes with my nerves. It makes mewant.
Although her eyes still hold confusion, I see the desire building there too, mirroring my own.
Then she asks, “Are you sure?”
I nod, turning for the doors. She lets me pull her along. I feel powerful now, but that feeling is dampened when we exit the ballroom and I have to drop her hand. She doesn’t seem to mind, at least. The look she gives me lets me know she understands.
“Why don’t you go up first,” she suggests, “and I’ll wait a few minutes before I follow.”
I agree, because it’s the smart thing to do. As I make my way alone up the inn’s stairs, though, without the comfort and reassurance her presence gives me, my nerves come back in full force.What am I doing?
The reality is that I don’t know what I’m doing. I know what I’m trying to do, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it. I have no clue how this works.
I don’t know what’s about to happen next, but when Addison knocks quietly on my door and I open it for her to slip inside, I know with a fierce certainty that whatever it is, I want it.
“Hi,” she says, as if she hasn’t seen me in days, rather than two minutes.
I laugh, feeling light and buoyant, sort of like I’m floating on a cloud. “Hi.”
We’re still standing by the door, and she hasn’t closed the couple feet of space between us. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” she says.
But I don’t let her say any more. I stride forward without giving myself time to second guess anything. My hands land on her waist, and our eyes lock for a split-second before we’re both slowly closing them.
I don’t know exactly who kisses who first, and I don’t think it matters. Because her lips are a soft but insistent pressure on mine and her hand is on the small of my back, keeping me in place against her. Her other hand comes up to the side of my neck, her thumb running over my pulse point.
My hands curl into fists in the material of her T-shirt. I’m grasping it like I don’t want to let her get away. But she’s not going anywhere.
She’s kissing me, and kissing me, and kissing me. Her tongue teases at my lips, and I part them for her, happily letting her in. But it’s a natural give and take. I push my way into her mouth, and we go back and forth like that until my lips are tingling.
