Page 17 of All The Ways to Miss You

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he says after assessing it for a moment. “If you hold this here, I’ll find my first-aid kit.”

“You’re a doctor too?” I tease.

“A regular Dr. McDreamy.”

“More like a Dr. Frankenstein.”

“I’ll ignore that comment since I’m about to save you from a slow death.” He returns from the bathroom with a medical box, drops to his knee, unscrews the top to a peroxide bottle, and pours the clear liquid over the wound.

I hiss at the fizzling ache.

“Sorry.” He repeats and cleans what’s left of the clotting blood, then removes a Band-Aid from his medical supplies.

“SpongeBob Band-Aids? Aren’t those for kids?”

“SpongeBob is for everyone.” He unwraps it, removes the backing, and presses it over the wound, smoothing out the edges.

Him taking care of me makes my heart contract. I like him a little more than a few minutes ago, and it doesn’t help that his warm hand is wrapped around my ankle. When he gently rubs the skin back and forth, I glance up to find his gaze pinning me to my seat. Ozzy’s words of wisdom ring in my mind. Here he is, a man at my feet.

“Thanks for saving me,” I say softly because my heart’s fluttering with the excitement of my itsy-bitsy crush.

As I wet my lips, his gaze falls to them and bounces back. His warm hand tightens around my ankle. The air thickens, drawing us closer, but he’s not the one who’s moved. It’s me dropping lower until my mouth is near his.

Our noses touch, and I inhale his exhale. My eyes sink closed before I press my mouth to his, finding his lips full and soft. I linger there, unmoving and reveling in the sensation of touching him. His shock seemingly wears off, and he kisses me back in a delicious building rhythm. Our lips part and tongues touch. Wine lingers on his, sweet and heated, and I savor the taste.

I grip his shirt, balling the cotton in my hands, and he rises on his knees to meet me. Firm fingers caress my nape before diving south, slipping over the cool satin of my robe and settling on my lower back. Wide palms grip my ass and tug me to the edge of the chair, making my legs slide open. My robe falls away, exposing my legs and hips to the chilled air. He settles between my thighs, and I clench my knees tighter around him.

There’s a restless need in the onward press of his body. The desperate fieriness is similar to the one building inside me. Nerve endings spark when his hands slip beneath the silk. Rough fingers press into the flesh of my hips, and I moan into his mouth.

Though I’m nowhere close to done with this kiss, his pace slows. His hands travel up the length of my arms before he eases me away. Our foreheads touch as I catch my breath. The kiss was too brief. My hunger’s not yet satiated. I stare at his swollen lips, ready for more.

“What’s going on here?” He peers at me from beneath a thick fringe of dark lashes.

“What do mean?” I suck in a ragged breath.

“A few days ago you hated me, and now you want to kiss me?” His words are breathless but steady.

“I was annoyed with you. I don’t hate you.”

“Does this have something to do with your breakup? I heard you crying the other night.”

“Well, um—” I’m flailing, my temperature rising. I search for the correct words to string together that won’t make me sound like a loser, but they never come because I fibbed about Lou. There’s no way to explain my joke now without looking like a jerk.

Butterflies cartwheel, tumbling in the painful churning in my stomach. I want to wrap myself tighter in my robe and run away, but with him inspecting me so closely, I can’t.

Reining in my emotions, I set my jaw to center myself. I need to find the proper words, along with my determination. I remind myself Evan doesn’t need to know everything. I don’t owe him any explanations. I came here about my broken shower, but now that I’m here in his arms, I consider it might have been more than that.

I recall the photo of Aggie and Charlie from earlier tonight. She’s getting what she wants. Maybe I came here because I wanted Evan, or I wanted to be wanted by Evan. All I know is I want our kiss to continue. I don’t want to suppress what’s between us any longer.

I take a deep breath to shift my negative emotions to a clear goal. I need to turn this moment in my favor. I’m a saleswoman. I can do this. I dig deep for the person I am by day when I mask. I’m an actress capable of making the people around me believe I’m composed and self-possessed, that I’m worthy. I lift my chin.

“I was thinking you might take my mind off things. No strings attached,” I say in hushed tones.

Following my instincts, I lean into Evan and wrap my arms around his neck. My fingers thread into his thick hair. Its softness twines around my fingers, and I massage his neck. My thighs are still snaked around his waist, so I squeeze them, silently urging him to relent.

Instead of moving in and kissing me again like I expect, he throws his head back in an entertained chuckle. For some reason, he’s beyond thrilled with this scenario.

I jerk away. The joyous sound that I loved earlier now zips through me like a lightning bolt of rejection.