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My mind screamsno, while my body pleads forsomething. Staring at horrific crime scene photos for hours zaps all desire for food. For the last forty-eight hours, I’ve run on fumes.
“Maybe some oatmeal,” I suggest.
She lays her hand on mine again, as if her hand belongs in mine. I blink up at her, silently asking if she feels it too. The swirl of energy around us. The invisible thread pulling us closer, refusing to let go. Her lips part and she draws in a stuttered breath.
“I, uh—”
The door swings open and her gaze shifts to whoever walked in. A strained smile stretches her lips as she releases her hold on my hand. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot the construction crew working on the library expansion. They file in and head for one of the larger tables. All except one.
Him.
Thefriend.
I grind my molars as his eyes flash from mine to hers, a long list of questions written all over his face.Who is this guy? Are you with him? What are we if he’s in the picture?
Kirsten may not bemine, but damn, do I feel the sudden need to claim her.
Gone is the peace I gained less than thirty minutes ago. Gone is the addictive buzz beneath my skin as Kirsten took my hand. Gone is our blissful little bubble.
In its place, an inferno of jealousy flares to life. An incendiary hellstorm ready to ignite.
Reaching across the counter, I trail my fingers over hers and take her hand. Wide, stormy eyes flash to and hold my ambers as she swallows.
“What were you going to say?” I ask, softening my tone.
Her gaze falls to our hands for one, two, three breaths. Then those tempestuous irises latch on to my ambers and hold me captive. Steal my breath and jumpstart my heart. Tongue darting out, she licks her lips, then traps them between her teeth. Seconds feel like minutes as neither of us moves, breathes, speaks.
“I…” Her brows twitch. “I don’t remember.”
Because of him?
I mentally curse him and nod. “Okay.”
She steps back and my hold on her falls away. Pointing to the kiosk, she says, “Going to put your order in, deliver Mr. Taylor’s food, and get drinks for the other table.” Tension radiates off her, and I do my damnedest to remain unfazed.
Kirsten and I may have undeniable chemistry, but we have yet to lay claim. Though we never see each other outside these walls, something more than friendship exists between us. This inexplicable bond, this indisputableache, draws us together. It begs for attention. Pleads to be satiated. Gets on its knees and prays for more than simple touches and breathless minutes.
She may not be mine, but in the deepest corners of my heart, a piece of me wishes she was.
TWELVE
BEN
At the headof the table, I ease into the chair between Luke and Dylan, my eyes glued to Kirsten. She taps the counter, says something I can’t hear, and steps away from Officer Asshat.
Is this guy always around?
Ignore him. Focus on her.
Secured in a ponytail, her buttery blonde locks dance over her shoulders as she moves behind the service counter. Dusty rose gloss coats her lips, giving them a poutier look. A hint of eyeliner draws attention to her hypnotic steely-blue eyes, while a dusting of rouge highlights her cheekbones.
Damn, she shines. Sparkles.
After more than a decade, my nickname for her still fits. Only now for a new reason.
A smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she grabs a plate from the kitchen window. Looking over her shoulder, she rolls her eyes athim. The prick cop. The jerk that barked orders at her the other day, making a scene in a packed restaurant and embarrassing her.
Asshole.
