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CHAPTERELEVEN
Jasmine
I suppose now would be a good time to list hysteria and violence when nervous to my growing list of semi-psycho behaviors.
Slapping James isn’t something I’d planned on. Neither is having a tantrum once I find out what he’s been doing.
But I just don’t get it.
There’s just no way a guy like him could ever…
But his mouth does more than talk, answering every question I’ve had for twenty-four hours in a second once he kisses me.
So when I panic and slap his sweet face, it’s only nerves.
I’ve never even been kissed by a boy, let alone a real-life man who is as handsome and amazing as James. So I want to make sure I get it right. Asking him to do it again.
Properly… so I’m ready for it.
He doesn’t even seem to mind that, either. If anything, I’d say he was kinda happy I did slap his chops. Happier than when I was trying to tell him off.
For what? For being interested in you…? For maybe caring?
It’s just all so left field. Slapping his face is more of a way of pinching myself—making sure I’m not dreaming or haven’t been sucked into some simulation where I believe everything I see is real… like some kind of virtual reality.
One thing’s clear, though. I’m no great kisser, and James is only too accommodating, making up for whatever I’m missing by kissing me like I never knew anyone could be kissed.
That kiss made all my previous feelings, arousal, and tremors whenever in his presence seem like nothing by comparison. I’m panting for breath when he moves his mouth from mine, and I open it wider—ready to ask one of the million questions I have, but his thick finger presses softly on my lips, silencing me.
He makes me blush hard as he towers over me, making me feel so small but so special. Like I am the only other person in the world apart from him.
“If you’re going to stay mad at me, at least let me take you someplace you can slap me around without humiliating me in public,” he says in a hoarse whisper.
He turns my flushing emotions into embarrassment, making me realize how insanely childish I’ve been acting.
For the same reason I followed the sold flowers to the hospital, I nod my head without even having to think about it, already feeling like I want to stay glued to the man forever. I can’t get close enough to him. He feels and smells way better up close.
He holds me with what I can only describe as tenderness as James does his best to finish everything he was trying to say.
“I don’t have anyone, Jasmine. Never have. But when I saw you yesterday and followed you home, I knew there was something between us.”
Finding out it was him who’s been following me should shock me. It should make me madder than I was a second ago, but somehow, it only makes everything he’s saying ring true. Makes everything I’m feeling inside seem real… not just something that happens to other people.
My first instinct is to want to ask why.
Why me? What have I got to offer?
Looking into his smoldering eyes, I can see the time for questions is over, in his mind at least.
“Just say you’ll grab a coffee with me, or maybe we could grab something to eat?” he asks with that winning smile—an impossible smile being worn by an impossible man.Myimpossible man?
I can’t say no because it’s perfect, and I can’t say yes without feeling like I’m some puppet on a string, which I am right now.
“I’ve got to warn you, though,” he adds with mock seriousness. “I’m going to ask you to come back to my place, as cheesy as that might sound.”
I’ve gotten used to doing things a certain way, and avoiding people outside of work is probably my greatest skill next to flower arranging. So when it comes time to try to be my old self with James, the box is empty. Full of nothing but space for the new life that’s us I can already see flickering in his eyes as he rubs the sides of my arms with his huge hands, stroking the stray hair back from my face as if he already owns me.
Not that creepy “do as I say” ownership. More like finding something he lost, and now it’s come back to him. His only plan is to make sure he never loses it again.
