Page 36 of I Wish You Were Mine

So hard that I shiver again.

Before I know what’s happening, Tuck is closing the umbrella and dropping it on the ground and stepping inside.

Stepping into me, our chests brushing as he runs his hands up my arms. “Jesus Christ, Maren, look at these goosebumps. Go take a hot shower and put on some warm clothes.”

My brain short-circuits. The feel of his hands on me—those eyes, they’re full of fire and concern—ask him to come in, I don’t know how much more I can take?—

“Okay,” I manage.

He ducks his head, lips quirking. “I don’t see you moving.”

“I’m, um, going. I’ll move.” But I only manage to raise my chin, bringing our mouths that much closer.

His eyes flick to my lips. His hands move more slowly on my arms.

His eyes move back to mine. Silence, hot and full, pools between us.

The hunger in his eyes is so fierce, I convince myself I must be imagining it. A man like Tuck can’t possibly want a girl like me.

But God, how insane would the sex be if that hunger were real?

Shoving that thought from my head, I summon my every ounce of self-restraint—and self-respect—and step back. “You have a wedding to get to.”

I’m imagining the disappointment on his face too, right?

“I do.” He runs a hand over his mouth. “You’ll holler if you need anything? I’ll have my phone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Right.”

“Have fun.”

“Good luck studying. And don’t forget the warm clothes.” He turns toward the open door. For a split second he hesitates, and some wild, unhinged part of me fantasizes he’s going to ask me to be his plus-one tonight. “Bye, Maren.”

Talk about disappointment. “Bye, Tuck.”

I dart up the stairs, jumping when I hear Tuck close the door behind him. I let myself into my apartment and close my own door, falling back against it. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath. My heart gallops inside my chest.

Did Tuck and I almost kiss?Again?

Did Tuck Monroe, the millionaire single dad who looks like a celebrity who plays superheroes, actually want to kiss me again?

Even if he did, it’s a moot point. I need to focus on school. Saving money. I have to figure out what I want to do with my life. Getting involved with Tuck jeopardizes all that.

I breathe until my heart rate slows. I need to practice alittle mind over matter. If I stay busy, and keep my mind and my body occupied, I can forget about that almost-kiss, and the one before it too.

So I shower. I study. I eat some dinner.

But even though I’m wiped and more than a little overwhelmed with school, I can’t sit still several hours later.

I can’t stop thinking about how delicious Tuck’s kiss would be.

It’s almost ten by the time I give up. Only one thing to do to get out all this weird ass energy.

Dance.

seven

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