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His face tight, he nodded, surprising her by not withdrawing his hand. Still, she wouldn’t get her hopes up that him coming there meant anything other than his sense of loss at Connie’s death and him wanting to be with a friend. Will was at Leslie’s so maybe that was the only reason he’d turned to her instead of her brother.
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” Jared’s gaze dropped to their hands, and his eyes glistened. “I shouldn’t have insisted she have the chemotherapy. She didn’t want to. What right did I have to tell her she had to fight?”
His voice held anger, self-accusation, and a whole lot of raw pain.
“Her death isn’t your fault.” She softly rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand in a caressing motion. Helplessness washed over her. She wanted to ease his sorrow, to take away his pain, to comfort him however she could, yet she didn’t know where to begin, what to say to lighten his burden.
“Connie knew the risks. She made the choice to have the treatments. What happened is horrible, but couldn’t have been foreseen. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“She wouldn’t be dead right now if I hadn’t pushed her,” he began, looking away when his voice broke. Moisture shimmered on his dark lashes, and Chelsea’s heart pinched so tightly she could barely breathe.
She lifted his hand to her chest and hugged it to her. Words seemed inadequate when she wanted to give so much more.
They stood in silence, Chelsea wanting to comfort him, feeling the tremble in his hand next to her heart. His arm went around her, pulling her to him tightly, and he buried his face in her hair. “She’s dead because of me.”
“Oh, Jared,” she breathed against his neck, wishing she could take away every ounce of his sorrow, every ounce of his guilt. “I’m so sorry she’s gone, but you’re wrong. Connie’s death was an accident.”
“I failed her.” He rolled his forehead against hers, his face squished with torment. “I thought I knew best, that if she’d just take the treatments she’d overcome her cancer. I couldn’t bear the thought of her not fighting. I should have listened to what she wanted. If I had, she’d still be here.”
“You couldn’t have stopped her from dying, Jared,” Chelsea said. “Without treatment she would have died. Chemotherapy was her only hope.”
“I know.” But she could tell he didn’t. Not in his heart.
She held him, not speaking, not acknowledging how he shook, how he leaned into her, his face buried in her hair.
His body shook next to hers, and his arms tightened their hold, molding her against him. She didn’t care. She clung to him, knowing that next to Jared was where she always wanted to be, through the good times and the bad.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, wasn’t even convinced at first that she felt the light brush of Jared’s lips against her hair. Not until he began trailing kisses over her face in what she knew was a desperate attempt to ease his pain.
Needing to take away his hurt more than to draw her next breath, Chelsea lifted her face and kissed the corner of his mouth.
When he didn’t pull away, didn’t remind how they shouldn’t become involved because of being coworkers, didn’t remind of how they were just friends, didn’t complain or remind her she was too young and he was in love with someone else, as he’d done the last time she’d kissed him, she kissed him again. Only this time she pressed her lips fully to his and moaned when something within him snapped. Snapped and unleashed the flood of emotions dammed inside, showering her with his need. She welcomed the passionate storm.
He kissed her mouth, assaulting her lips until she opened, granting him access.
He kissed her with all the fervor she’d longed for when she’d first fallen head over heels for him and for what seemed like most every day since.
He kissed her until she clung to him, breathless and needy. Not at all like “just friends”. Oh, no, his kisses were raw, edgy, full of passion, intense. Wonderfully intense.
“Your mouth drives me mad.” He brushed his hands over her hair, her face, her lips. “I’ve wanted to kiss you, to feel your lips against mine. When you smiled at me for the first time, Chelsea, I wanted you. God, how I wanted you, but you were too young and I was involved with Laura. I had no right to want you. Not then, not now, but I do. I want you so much.”
Chelsea stared at him, wide-eyed and in shock. She’d seen the way he looked at her. On some level she’d recognized the emotions as similar to what surged through her veins, but he’d pushed her away and she’d lacked the experience and confidence to do anything about his rejection. But Jared was admitting to wanting her. His hungry expression admitted to much more than his words said.
And he liked her mouth? He must, because he was kissing it again, devouring her lips with his in urgent caresses that told a story of their own. A story where Jared cherished her.
“You have the smile of an angel.”
He was an angel.
Had to be because his kisses, his touch were heavenly.
Feeling emboldened by his praise, Chelsea stroked her fingers over his shoulders, his neck, curling into the midnight hair at his nape. The silky strands were just long enough to tangle her fingers in, wrap around her fingers, hold him to her, and show him everything in her heart. Everything that had been in her heart for what seemed like an eternity.
She had no concept of time, of how long they stood touching, caressing, comforting, not until Jared pulled back.
“I shouldn’t have come here. Not like this.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m taking advantage of you. Of this moment. Laura. I can’t.”
Fear pulsed through Chelsea. She didn’t want him to leave. But any second he’d go back to the pretense they’d maintained for weeks. She was tired of pretending he wasn’t everything she’d ever wanted, because he was.
