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His strong arms pulled me even closer. A hand snaked into my hair, and suddenly he was really kissing me.
Beautiful oblivion. Just the feel of his hard mouth on mine, his hand in my hair, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. I kissed him eagerly, my eyes drifting closed. For a few minutes, life was nothing but sensation. Fantastic, erotic sensation, the kind I felt every time I stepped onto the stage in front of a cheering crowd.
He pulled back once, sensing that we were going too fast. “Quinn–”
But I nipped at his jaw, worked my way up to his ear, and whatever he was going to say became a groan.
I don’t know how long we stood like that, locked together, bodies enmeshed, tongues entwined. It felt like it could have been forever–like we’d open our eyes and realize that Jason Cain had grown old and died while we were kissing. Problem solved. But when Callum finally broke the kiss and pulled away, it felt too soon. I blinked, disoriented by how bright the kitchen light was. My lips felt deliciously swollen. I touched a finger to them.
“Fuck,” Callum murmured. He had backed away a few steps, but he was still staring at me like he wanted to eat me up. I felt my lips curve behind the pad of my index finger.
“Is that an–”
He shook his head sharply, cutting me off. “Don’t, Quinn. I’m hanging by a thread here.”
I knew that, and I wanted him to snap. But the sharp note in his voice warned me not to push it right now. Callum was struggling. He wanted to be touching me. He wanted to be the good, honorable guy he’d spent his whole life being.Iwanted him to reconcile the two, but he couldn’t. I could see it in his eyes. The fracturing. The wonderingwhat the hell did I just do?
“Okay,” I whispered, taking a step back so he knew I wasn’t going to try to push him. I held my hands up, palms out, trying to hide my grin.
“It’s not fucking funny,” he snapped. Clearly, I had failed.
“It’s not funny,” I agreed. “It’s so dumb. You want to kiss me. I want you to kiss me. So why are we on opposite sides of the kitchen?”
He shook his head, bemused and a little angry. “You’re not in the right headspace,” he said, annoyed that I wasn’t getting it.
I widened my eyes. For the first time, irritation wormed its way through the haze of lust. “Excuse me, Callum, but I thinkI’lldecide when I’m in the right headspace to sleep with someone.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“Yeah, Ihave. And I wanted to forget about it for a few hours with the only man in the world I trust one hundred percent.” I put my hands on my hips. Anger was flushing away the desire I’d felt just moments ago, but it was edged in disappointment. Why was he screwing up a good thing? Had I been imagining how amazing that kiss was?
Now Callum’s green eyes were narrowing, too. I had a feeling if I could see us from the outside, we’d look like mirror images. “If you want to forget for a few hours, drink another damn beer,” he snapped. “But if that’s all it is, find someone else to fuck with.”
“I’m not–” I started to say, but the sound of floorboards creaking above us had us both looking upward. Whatever I was about to deny was forgotten when we heard Noah’s small voice calling down, “Hey, Dad? I’m thirsty.”
A carousel of emotions flew across Callum’s face. Tenderness. Regret. Frustration. Love. More that I couldn’t identify. “I’ll be right up, buddy.”
The footsteps retreated. We heard the creak of his door as it opened again. The creak we hadn’t heard earlier because we were fighting in whispers that apparently weren’t quiet enough.
“Callum,” I whispered now. I wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t sure what I would be apologizing for.
He held up his hand. It didn’t matter what I came up with. He didn’t want to hear it. “Let’s just stick to the plan. You’re here for your safety. Make yourself at home. But you and I–” he broke off and shook his head. “It’s no good.”
“If that kiss was anything to go by–” I stopped when I saw the look on his face.
Part lust, part anger, part frustration. He straightened his shoulders and walked over to the cabinet to get a glass, pulling himself together. With his back to me, he said, “It doesn’t matter how much I like kissing you. It doesn’t matter that I almost don’t care that if things had gone another way, my kid might have seen something he’s way too young to see.”
“Then whatdoesmatter?” I asked, watching him.
I thought for a second he wouldn’t answer. He carried the glass to the refrigerator and filled it with the chilled water pitcher. Then, just as I was about to give up and go to my room to lick my wounds, he spoke.
“Youmatter, Quinn. You matter more than I want to think about.” Callum turned around, his green eyes clear and direct. “It would be just a few hours to you. A way to forget. But I couldn’t forget. You understand?”
My lips parted in surprise, and I nodded. I understood.
I just couldn’t believe it.
CHAPTER 12
