Page 47 of Waiting For Fate

Sawyer brushes my hair off my shoulder and leans down to whisper in my ear, making goosebumps breakout all down my arms.

“You sound a little jealous, Dove.” He stands back to his towering height and I try to slip my mask of indifference back on.

“As jealous as someone who threatens someone else’s date for kissing them?” His face hardens and his nostrils flare while his jaw ticks furiously.

“I’m not afraid to admit I’m the most jealous motherfucker there is when it comes to you, Leah.” His use of my real name in lieu of my nickname has me more aware of how serious he is right now. I swallow hard, my mind spinning from the tequila hitting me now that I’m standing still.

“Jackson is here, I have to go.” His grip tightens on me, stopping me from moving, and for the first time since he got back, I actually don’t want to walk away. I want to stand here and hear him out. I want to see if he’s really changed, and I want him to prove to me that he means it.

“No.” He spins me around, keeping us moving with the rest of the crowd on the dance floor until we’re on the opposite side of the room. “I’m not letting you go so easy this time, Dove.” I see him scan the perimeter then he turns and leads the way off the dance floor before pulling me down a hallway in the back of the restaurant.

“What are you doing, Sawyer?” I’m practically running to keep up with him, as he keeps a firm grip on my hand. He turns to face me and backs me into the exposed brick wall, and even though I should be annoyed that I keep finding myself in this position with him, the rate at which my heart is beating begs to differ.

He takes a deep breath, towering over me. “I know you hate me, Leah. You’ve had every right to. I’ve acted like an asshole and screwed up in more ways than I can even count, but I am done pretending like you’re not mine.” He tucks a stand of hair behind my ear, letting his knuckles caress my cheek and down my neck until they’re resting on my collarbone while goosebumps shoot down my arm. My eyes flutter shut, savoring every electric feeling from his touch.

“But I’m not yours, Sawyer,” I whisper, finally dragging my gaze up to meet his.

“Is that so?” He slides his hand down to my chest, as I will my heart to beat slower.

It doesn’t.

“Then why does your heart feel like it’s about to beat out of your chest, again? The same way it was racing when you were tucked away in the corn stalks with me.” His other hand runs along the length of my arm, clearly bringing attention to the goosebumps there as he smirks.

“We both know you’ve always been mine, Dove. It’s just a matter of time before you accept it and let me prove to you how sorry I am for fucking it up for us all those years ago.” His nose brushes the tip of mine, and I take a deep breath in trying to steady myself.

His signature cedarwood scent surrounds me and I can feel the warmth of his lips so close to mine, if I were to lift my head even the slightest bit, I would finally know what it feels to kiss Sawyer Clark.

“Let me know when you lose the boyfriend, Leah. You were never supposed to be with him anyway.” Suddenly the warmth of his presence is gone and he’s walking away. Leaving me standing alone in the hallway.

Speechless.

Breathless.

And more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

Shit.

I run my hands through my hair, leaning my head back on the wall behind me as I try to compose myself. Things with Sawyer have always been intense—only tonight, instead of being angry with him, I wanted to give in to him. I wanted him to wrap me in his arms and show me just how sorry he is—the way he keeps saying he’s going to.

But once again, he walked away.

Only this time, I want to chase after him.

CHAPTER 20

SAWYER

I deserve a damn medal for walking away from her tonight. Feeling her heart race against the palm of my hand, seeing the way her pupils dilated as soon as we were a breath apart, and the fact that she didn’t go running for the hills the minute I had her alone was enough to make me want to break and kiss her right then and there.

She’s only partially right about not being mine. While she’s still entertaining the idea that dating khakis is going to work out, I know they won’t last. Because as I sit here watching her from across the room while she talks with him at the bar, she can’t stay focused on him for longer than a minute before I see her eyes land on me. Where they should be.

I’ve never been a very patient man, but for her I’m fucking trying to be.

I don’t just want her quick glances and stolen moments tucked into the corner of a corn maze or a bar we both end up at. I want every smile she has to offer and to be the one that makes her head fall back in laughter. I want to hold her hand as we walk down the street and wrap her in my arms when she’s cold and isn’t wearing a jacket—because she’s never wearing a jacket. I want to see her cheering me on in the crowd at every one of my games and spend Sundays watching her get lost in a book or making lesson plans, or whatever it is she does now. I want to get lost in the taste of her and prove to her that no one else will ever know her the way that I do.

I won’t be the one to break while she’s still seeing someone else, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be doing everything I can to get her to break first.

“We’re heading to Spurs, you coming?” Tank comes up and asks as I finish off my beer. I watch as Leah and Jackson join the rest of the group and if they’re going, there’s no way I’m not going.

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