Page 86 of Secrets on Ice

“Talk to me …”

She mulls over my request. “Stupid emotions …” she confesses. “I came out for water, and then it all hit me at once. Kevin, the divorce. It’s like my brain waited until everything was quiet to remind me how much of a mess I am.” Her voice cracks on the last word.

I can’t stand it. I close the distance and pull her into my arms without thinking. She stiffens for half a second, then melts against me, burying her face in my chest. Her hands fist in my T-shirt as fresh tears soak through the fabric.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur into her hair, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back. “You’re not a mess. You’ve been dealt something life-changing, and you’re doing a pretty fucking good job of dealing with it.”

She lets out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. “I feel so stupid. Shouldn’t I be over this by now? Cassidy is.”

“You’re allowed to grieve it,” I say quietly. “And Cass, well … she’s a whole other beast. Maybe she’s coping, or maybe she’s surviving just like you, but she’s better at hiding it.”

We stand there for a long time, her body warm and soft against mine. I can feel every breath she takes, every small shudder as she tries to calm down. My hand keeps moving on her back, soothing, and I have to fight the urge to press my lips to the top of her head.

Eventually, her breathing evens out as she calms herself, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Better?” I ask, voice low.

She nods against my chest. “Yeah, thank you.”

I should let go now, but I don’t.

The kitchen is quiet except for the hum of the fridge. Her fingers are still curled in my shirt. My hand is still on her back. The air feels thick, heavy with everything we’re not saying. She tilts her head up to look at me. Our faces are inches apart. For the first time since Maine, neither of us looks away.

“Do you regret what happened in Maine?” she whispers.

The question hits me like a punch. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

She looks down, embarrassed. “Because … after it happened, you said it stays in Maine. Like it was a mistake. Like you wished it never happened.”

I stare at her, stunned. “I thought you regretted it,” I say quietly. “You ran. You wouldn’t look at me. You wouldn’t talk about it. I figured you were embarrassed and I was the asshole who took advantage of the moment.”

She shakes her head, eyes glassy. “I was embarrassed that I threw myself at you. You didn’t take advantage, it was me who did.”

The words hang between us.

I swallow hard. “I don’t regret it, Em. Not for a second.”

Her breath catches.

For a long, charged moment we just look at each other, the kitchen light casting soft shadows across her face. My hand is still on her back. Her fingers are still curled in my shirt.

Then something snaps.

I kiss her.

It’s not gentle, it’s hungry and desperate. I’ve been starving for her. She makes a soft, broken sound against my mouth and I lift her, hands under her thighs, setting her on the kitchen counter like she weighs nothing. Her leg’s part for me instinctively and I step between them, kissing her deeper, tongues sliding, teeth grazing.

She pulls back just enough to breathe, eyes glassy and wild. “Sully …”

“Tell me to stop,” I rasp against her swollen lips.

She shakes her head, voice trembling. “I don’t want you to stop. I just … I want to feel something. I haven’t felt anything in such a long time. I just need to not feel broken anymore. You know?”

The vulnerability in her voice wrecks me. I kiss her again, slower this time, deeper, like I’m trying to pour everything I feel into her. My hand slides up her thigh, under the hem of her oversized T-shirt.

Oh shit.

She’s now wearing any underwear. Fuck, now that I know this, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop myself from touching her. When my fingers find her already soaked, she whimpers into my mouth, hips rolling against my hand.