Page 17 of Run to Me

Another quick nod, and he spins on his heel and marches into his store.

Menchy never engages in small talk with people, reserving his brusque communication skills for anyone who falls out of line by his standards. Needless to say, our interaction baffles me.

Stuffing my hands in my coat pockets to protect them from the biting chill, I lower my head and stroll toward The Drip. A presence forces me to look up, and my steps falter, eyes widening in alarm.

Jensen strides toward me with a determined expression on his bearded face and a black hoodie covering his hair. My panicked gaze darts to the coffee shop less than half a block away as I consider my odds of reaching the door before he reaches me. His long legs eat up the brick pavers between us, and I’m too late to act. In a blink, he grabs my shoulders and walks me backward into the narrow alley between the antique store and the donut shop.

“What the⁠—”

He slams his mouth onto mine, and I go stiff, frozen from the shock of his unexpected kiss. When he presses harder against my mouth, shoving his tongue along the seam of my closed lips and demanding entry, he earns my quick surrender. Pathetically quick. I part my lips and welcome him in, allowing the longing I’ve felt for him all these years to wrap around us like a blanket of hopeless submission.

Jensen groans in victory and lifts me off the ground, taking us farther into the shadows. My dangling legs wrap around his waist when my back hits a brick wall. Using his hips to pin me in place, he thrusts his fingers into my curls and yanks on the roots. I rip his hood off and do the same, sliding my hands into his thick, luscious waves and fisting them until he grunts from the pain.

We’re chaotic and messy, all teeth and tongues, biting each other’s lips and stealing air from each other’s lungs. He smells incredible—like spice and musk and dirty dreams—and I want to drown in his scent and never come up for air. Reflexively, I sigh into his mouth, drawing a rumble from his chest.

“Do I have your attention now, birdie?” His ragged whisper vibrates against my stinging lips.

“Shut up.” I dive back in, pouring more aggression and anger into our frenzied kiss.

How dare he bulldoze me like this? How dare he kiss me without permission? I’m furious with him, but I can’t make myself put an end to this madness.

My teeth sink into his full bottom lip so hard his breath hitches. He squeezes two handfuls of my ass and grinds his pelvis, dragging a deep moan from my throat. In retaliation, I bury my sharp nails into the back of his neck and rub my core against his belt buckle, grateful I wore leggings today. My body craves the friction.

“God, I miss you so much. Please stop running from me. Give me a chance to make things right.” His gruff tone warms my insides, but his hurried speech stops me cold.

In the chaos of lust, I’ve forgotten the vow I made to myself long ago. This man will never be in my life again. He had his chance and made his choice.

Chest heaving, I reluctantly turn my head away, denying him once again. “Put me down, Jensen.”

“Maisy,” he breathes, his voice cracking. “Please.”

“Put. Me. Down.”

He rests his forehead against my cheek, panting hot breaths along my jaw and neck. “I can’t take this anymore. Haven’t you punished me long enough?”

I squirm against his hold until he relents, helping me slide down his firm body. Once I’m on solid ground, he paces and rubs his beard without taking his eyes off me.

My stare is fixed on the brick wall behind him when I say, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

When he spoke these exact words to me years ago, he lied. Jensen knew what I wanted from him. The request I made back then was crystal clear. After all this time, however, I’m uncertain of his intentions. Any type of relationship with him, friendly or romantic, is out of the question. I won’t become vulnerable for anyone again, especially him.

Frustrated with his lack of response, I meet his intense gaze and search for truth amid the emotional chaos brewing in his eyes. “Say something, Jensen. Say anything. Use your words.”

With a defeated sigh, he shakes his head. “You know I’m not good with words.”

I step toward him as if he’s the smaller person here. I’m so pissed off right now, I feel massive compared to him. “That’s bullshit. You’ve had years to think about what you would say to me. Fucking years. And you choke yet again.” I laugh in his face, although nothing about this situation is funny. “Typical. You know, for someone so big and strong, you sure do scare easily.”

“Because I can’t—you don’t—I’m not—dammit!” Fumbling to put his thoughts into words, his volume and distress rise before he regains control with a steadying breath. “You know this isn’t easy for me.”

I do. And I’m a terrible person for using his perceived weaknesses against him. Still, I have to protect my heart.

Tossing up air quotes, I say, “Then tell me, in one simple little ‘Jensen’ word, what you want from me.”

“Anything!” he explodes, raking a rough hand through his hair. He yanks at the strands, and his eyes fill with anguish. “Fuck. I want everything from you, Maisy. But give me five minutes of your time.”

“Why?” I ask, challenging him. “So we can sit in silence? Stare at each other while I try to read your mind?”

He holds out his hands, palms turned up as he begs. “Five minutes. Spare five fucking minutes of your life for me.”