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He leaned his head back against the bark and closed his eyes, letting the familiar song—and the feelings that came with it—surround him in the darkness.
He’d just kissed Mia in front of his entire family. In truth, he’d thought of little else since that day in the courthouse. He’d been dying inside, hoping for the chance to have his lips back on hers. But fulfilling that desire had done nothing but plunge him deeper into his constant state of misery.
Not to mention the blue balls—another state he lived in on the daily.
What had he been thinking, marrying her? What on earth had he thought he’d accomplish? He could tell himself all day long he wanted to help her pursue her dreams, and it would be one hundred percent true. But there was more to it, much as he tried to deny it.
He’d wanted to be closer to her. Because apparently seeing her every day at work, and at least three times a week after work, wasn’t enough. He’d denied himself for so long, knowing he didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve to be happy after what he’d done. He’d kept his distance for years—almost a decade—and put Mia firmly in the friend category.
Then she’d given him the opportunity for more, and under the guise of doing it for her benefit, he’d jumped on it like a ravenous lion on an injured gazelle.
Well, now she’s close, you idiot.Living with her was like standing next to a fire, feeling the pleasure and warmth, but knowing he didn’t dare put his hand inside the flames.
“Fuck me,” he muttered.
A low creak alerted him that someone was climbing up the ladder. Mia’s dark hair was the first thing he saw, and she climbed on all fours until she was beside him. She tilted her head, listening.
“Snow Patrol, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Reminiscing?”
“Something like that.”
“We must have listened to this song a thousand times.”
“At least.”
The sun was setting and it was dim inside the tree house, but his eyes had adjusted. She smoothed out her skirt and crossed her legs at the ankles, absently picking at her thumbnail. Her dark hair slid forward, a curtain hiding her features. He ached to slide his fingers through the strands and push them back.
To see her face. To touch her lips again.
He looked away. “Was that okay? What I did out there? It just seemed like the believable thing to do.”
“The kiss?”
“Yeah. If you could even call it that.” Maybe minimizing it would force his own feelings to take the hint.
“It wasn’t a kiss?”
His shoulders tensed, and he was thankful for the darkness. “Not really.”
“Felt like it. Your lips were right here.” She tilted her face and touched her bottom lip with her thumb.
It took a mountain of strength not to let his eyes linger there. “I may have put my mouth there,” he managed to get out. “But I didn’t kiss you.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the exact definition.”
He shifted his gaze to the wood planks at his feet, unable to look at her when he said, “If you and I ever kissed for real, you’d know the difference.”
She shivered, and he wished he had a jacket to offer her.
“Hmm,” she murmured. “Now you’ve got me curious. What would a real kiss from Noah Agnew entail?”
The words came without thought, his number one fantasy one of the clearest scenes in his mind. He’d thought about it so often it was embarrassing. “You know that feeling in your stomach when you know something good’s about to happen? A lot of that. Anticipation, excitement, and maybe a little bit of nerves. When our lips touched, it would be one of two things. Soft and sweet, or deep and intense. Either way, there would definitely be tongue involved. My hands would be in your hair—” He suddenly stopped and coughed, noticing her wide eyes.Shit.“I mean, hypothetically.”
The song ended and silence surrounded them for a few beats before it started back up again.
