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Ansley


Ipush him away and look up into his stupid green eyes with their stupid long lashes.

He tries to pull me back in, and I stand my ground.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Everything.

I don’t say the word out loud because I don’t trust my treacherous voice not to crack further with emotion.

I decided a long time ago never to let my guard down with a man again. It’s been years since I lost myself in an embrace or kiss. Yet here I am, acting like some lovesick teenager, getting lost in the arms of her teenage crush.

“That was inappropriate, and I want you to leave,” I say instead.

“Inappropriate? Foxy, that was PG. We haven’t even skimmed the edge of inappropriate yet,” he promises.

I take a step back as the dizzying heat of desire I was feeling five minutes ago starts to fade into flaming hot anger.

Who the hell does he think he is?

“Yet?”

“That’s right. Yet,” he repeats.

I shake my head at his audacity. “You’re such an arrogant asshole.”

He smirks. “An arrogant asshole you just kissed.”

“Oh no, you kissed me,” I insist.

“And you kissed me back.”

I did do that.

I shrug with indifference. “So? I wanted to see if there was anything there. Any scrap of the attraction I’d once felt for you. Turns out, there isn’t,” I snap.

He barks out in a fit of laughter, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

“I forgot how good of a liar you are,” he says once he pulls himself together.

Something snaps inside of me, and I see red.

“Liar? Me? The only one in this relationship who can be called a liar is you, Garrett Tuttle!” I scream.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and that smirk that has always gotten under my skin deepens.

“This relationship, huh?” he asks.

“Don’t do that. You know what I meant,” I demand.

“You called it a relationship, gorgeous, not me.”

“Grrr,” I growl.

“You’re still cute when you get angry,” he muses.

“Get out!” I shout as I point him toward the stairs.

He doesn’t move.

“Get out now, Garrett,” I howl.

Finally, he relents and heads for the exit.

“Okay, Foxy, but if I drown or am struck by lightning out there, it will be on your head,” he calls up as he descends the steps.

“Worth it,” I yell back.

I hear his chuckle echo up the stairwell, and I don’t breathe again until I hear the door close behind him.

Oh, that was bad. Very, very bad.

I can’t believe I kissed him. Dammit. What he must think of me with all my bravado and claims of being well and completely over him, yet I turned to mush in his arms the minute he touched his lips to mine. I’m probably not the first thirty-something woman who hasn’t had a man’s touch in a while to fall victim to Garrett Tuttle. I bet he’s left a string of love-starved females across the country. The world even. I’m sure every female with a pulse at his concerts has lined up at his trailer after every show, looking for the chance to have those lips on her.

Ugh, the thought makes me nauseous.

Why did he have to pop up back in town and stir up all these long-suppressed emotions?

How long has it been since I’ve felt the heady, exhilarating flutter of desire in my body?

Too long.

Truth be told, I forgot what an incredible rush it was to be wanted by him. The yearning racing through my body that he could elicit with a single touch. The delicious heat that runs between us like an electric current that can turn my brain to mush and my resistance to nonexistent. Shouldn’t that flame have gone out a long time ago? How cruel is fate to dredge it all back up again?

I almost burst into tears at how perfect it felt. The impact of his mouth on mine rocked me to the core and drummed up a long-lost longing.

Thank God I didn’t cry. How embarrassing that would have been. I don’t know how I summoned the strength to keep the waterworks inside and reserve at least a slice of dignity. But the kiss itself was scorching. I wanted so badly at that moment to tangle myself up in his arms and forget the bazillion reasons I shouldn’t be in the same room with Garrett Tuttle, much less kissing him. The bastard who threw me away all those years ago to chase fame and fortune.

I do the only thing I know to do at this point. I grab my phone off the kitchen island to call in reinforcements. Texting the girls an SOS to meet me at the café.

Surely, they will be the voice of reason.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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