Page 13 of Inn To You

“Your heart.”

Her mouth falls open, ready to refute me, but I’m already leaning forward. Her hand lands on my chest.

“Why did you kiss me the other night?”

With the momentum of leaning in, I lower toward her cheek, rubbing mine against hers. “You know that was more than a mere kiss. But to answer your questions, I wanted to take away your worries.” My voice dips as I speak to her ear. With my jaw, I continue my path along the side of her face, then run my nose along her jaw, forcing her head to tip upward. She smells intoxicating up close, fresh and sweet, and I press a kiss under her chin.

I can’t explain this attraction to her. This desire to steal her concerns and allow her to disappear with me. Or maybe I’m the one wanting to fade into her.

Placing my hands on her hips, I hoist her up onto the workstation. A jar of brushes topples over. Our lips don’t meet, but I still explore her face with the side of mine. My jaw along her cheek. My nose around her ear. Another soft kiss just below the lobe.

Her hands come to my chest, slipping over my tight T-shirt and wrapping over my shoulders, exploring me as well. I cup her backside and tug her to the edge of the workstation, forcing her knees to spread and allowing me space between her legs. The heat of her center hits the front of my jeans. Still, we don’t kiss.

Skin to skin, I skim along her face. Her hands cascade over my shoulder blades, tugging me closer to her. Through her form-fitting shirt, her nipples peak, and the hard nubs meet my firm chest. We aren’t close enough, yet I’m more turned on than the other night, pressing her into the wall in room twenty-seven. Dragging my hands up her sides, I press my thumbs along her belly as I climb, then pause just below her breasts. Her breath hitches.

I want to capture her mouth. I want to suck her tongue and nip at her lips, but I can’t seem to remove myself from stroking my face along hers, nudging at her breasts with my thumbs, and feeling her hands through the thin layer of my tee. “You drive me wild.”

She hums while wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling her upper body flush to mine. Her ankles hook around the back of my thighs, holding me against her. She’s locked me in place, and there’s nowhere else I want to be than attached to her.

I want to be inside her. I want to feel her warmth surrounding me.

And then I remember she’s someone’s mom. I can’t do commitment. I’m only here temporarily.

My intention had been to distract her, but she keeps affecting me. As in, I want more and more of her, but I refuse to take us further.

I pull back, but she doesn’t let go. Her mouth presses to my jaw, sprinkling a line of kisses over the fine scruff. She nips at my throat. Her bite is tender but makes an impact.

“Fuck. What are you doing to me?” I tighten my hands on her sides a second before slipping them forward and feeling the weight of her breasts. Not cupping them. Not squeezing them. Just forcing them upward in the V of my thumb and forefinger. Teasing her. Torturing me.

“I’m taking your worries.” She hums against my skin, the vibration arrows straight down to my aching cock. Her teeth scrape over my throat again, and I still.

Pulling away from her, my brows pinch. “What worries?”

“Surely, you worry about something.”

I slide my hands to her lap, placing my palms flat on her upper thighs. Her ankles have released my legs, and her hands return to my chest. Her gaze lands on her fingers, toying with my shirt.

“I don’t have any worries,” I lie. The last year has been a shit show of anxiety, but I’m making strides to regain myself.

“What is it?” she whispers, her tone earnest as if she can read me. Like she really wants to know about me.

Hoping to dismiss the conversation, I risk a peek at her eyes before quickly looking away again. “Nothing.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” Her gaze roams my face like she’s an expert at dissecting the unspoken. “Is it Jonas?”

My head snaps back. “What? No.” I don’t know her kid, but I’m sure he’s great. My apprehension has nothing to do with her or her kid. “Not everything is about you.”

She flinches and releases me completely, but I can’t seem to step away from her. My hands slip to the workstation, no longer touching her but still caging her in.

“Of course not. But something is wrong, isn’t it?”

Why can’t she let this go? I’m not comfortable being confronted. I’m not comfortable being questioned. I’m not comfortable with the interest I hear in her voice.

“It’s nothing.” My hands tighten on the edge of the tabletop.

“City slicker.” Even with the teasing nickname, her tone sounds motherly, caring even, and I’m reminded again why I shouldn’t be kissing her.

She’s a mom.