Page 47 of Unexpected

“You weren’t being serious, though. It was just the adrenaline or whatever talking?”

Hearing the question in her voice, I waited until her eyes met mine so she had access to all the emotion tumbling through me and saw my intention. I reached out slowly and grasped the side of her neck, my fingers tangling in her hair. She bit her lip, waiting for me to respond, and I used my thumb to pull it free.

She had no reason to be nervous.

Her skin was extraordinarily soft under my calloused palm, and my hand looked huge against her face. We were closer than we’d ever been, and even in the faint light of the fireplace and the glow of the TV, I scanned her face. I noticed the freckles along her nose and forehead, the faint scar above her lip, and the way her lip was quivering ever so slightly as my thumb rested on her chin.

“If I knew it would take away even an ounce of your pain,” I said with conviction. “I wouldn’t hesitate to do it.”

Her lips parted at my admission, and she sucked in a breath. I felt her pulse quicken under my palm, and I swore I could hear her heart thudding in her chest. Or maybe it was my own as the blood whooshed behind my ears.

Almost imperceptibly quick, her eyes darted from mine to my lips and then back. I wanted to lean in and finally confirm how well I knew we’d fit together and do something about this aggressive chemistry between us, but I didn’t for fear of her reaction to any move I made. So instead, I stayed still and watched her. Her brow furrowed slightly as she watched my mouth, and under her gaze, my lips went dry. I stuck my tongue out to wet them, and before I had a chance to realize it, she closed the distance between us, and her lips were on mine.

For a moment, I still didn’t move as she kissed me. There was a war brewing in my mind: kiss her and claim her like I wanted to or put a stop to it all because her actions could only be a reaction to her emotional few days. A bigger, better man may have stopped it or wouldn’t have touched her in the first place, knowing that she was trying not to fall apart as her life crumbled around her. But I realized I wasn’t a better man, and my need for her, to feel her in my arms, to keep her safe and help her come back from it all, won out.

Once I made the decision, I couldn’t hold back a moment longer. I heard the ice rattling in her glass, still gripped in one of her hands, as her kiss grew more urgent. I responded in kind, grabbing the glass from her and placing it on the table without breaking our connection. I gripped the other side of her face with my free hand and pulled her toward me. She pressed her hands on my chest, still allowing a little room between us, but leaned forward.

I slipped my tongue against her already slightly parted lips, and she immediately opened for me. She was as sweet as I knew she’d be, and the whiskey on her tongue amplified it all. My hand trailed down her back, and I gripped her hip; I wanted to explore her entire body with my hands, my mouth.

She grunted in pain, and in the fog of the passion swirling around us, I had forgotten about the bruises just beneath my hands, on both of her hips.

I tensed, ready to pull back, but her hands covered my own, urging me to tighten my grip on her. “I’m okay,” she muttered against my mouth.

She pressed up onto her knees next to me and wrapped her hands around my neck and through my short hair. The teasing scrape of her fingernails against my neck raised goose bumps down my arms and stoked the fire in me. Her chest pressed up against mine as a breathy moan escaped her lips, and I swallowed it down. All restraint lost, I pulled her hips, eager to have her straddling me and as close as she could get. With each swipe of her tongue against mine, each illicit sound, and each time she pressed into me harder, the more I craved her. I was never going to get enough.

My actions, though, were suddenly met with resistance. Immediately, I loosened my grip on her hips but kept my kiss eager. I would let her set our pace, let her be in control, but I needed her to know I wanted this. Without warning, she pulled her mouth from mine and unraveled her hands from where they were twisted through my hair.

She fell back against the couch, her fingers tracing over her swollen lips. Around her mouth and her chin, her skin was red and slightly raw from my short beard, and she looked absolutely beautiful. I immediately missed her mouth, her hands, her noises.

My dick was uncomfortably hard against the zipper of my pants as we both tried to calm our breathing, and I tried to slow my pounding pulse.She stared at me for a moment, seemingly shocked by her actions, before her eyes trailed over me and grew wider when she saw the evidence of my arousal straining against the material of my jeans.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath. She looked like she was about to leap off the couch, and I wanted her to do anything but that. “I don’t—I didn’t… that’s not… shit.” She pushed herself up and was off the couch before I could totally wrap my head around the situation. Too much of the blood was being forced to my smaller head, and it was hindering my ability to think clearly.

“Wait,” I said, reaching for her hand. She quickly yanked it away, and I watched the fear tear across her face. My heart sank as she flinched, but she didn’t continue her retreat. I rose from the couch and reached for the hand she yanked away before. She let me hold it as I said, “Everything’s fine.”

She shook her head and released a breath. “I’m embarrassed,” she admitted, not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t mean to jump you like that, I’m just all over the place and don’t know what I’m feeling right now. With everything that’s happened, especially the timing of it all, I can’t seem to get my head straight.”

“Well, couple things about that: one, you shouldn’t be embarrassed when, as you can tell, I enjoyed you jumping me…” I paused, and she blushed as she caught on to my meaning. “Two, it’s normal that your feelings are all over the place right now. Just don’t run. When I said I’m here, I meant it.”

She finally met my eyes, and some of the embarrassment and uncertainty that I saw before were gone.

“Okay.”

I pulled her back down on the couch, and she sat down next to me, our movement only slightly disturbing Sadie, who stopped snoring for a moment to look at us before she let her head fall back to the couch. I slung my arm on the cushion behind Hazel, giving her the option to sit as close as she wanted without touching me. She readjusted until she was close but not touching me. She felt a mile away.

“What did you mean about the timing of everything?”

“Umm… well, my birthday was the first,” she said. “I woke up on my birthday here, I—” She cleared her throat. “I snuck out of your house and went home to find Michael, who was extremely angry. It was just a really shitty way to spend my birthday.”

“I think that’s the understatement of the year. Why didn’t you say anything about it being your birthday?”

“Because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I already had enough stuff going on. It’s fine, I’ll have another birthday next year, and I’ll celebrate twice as much or something.”

I settled farther back into the couch and with my arm still thrown over the cushion, I let my fingers trace circles over Hazel’s shoulder. When she was so close, I found it hard not to touch her. “No, that’s not going to work for me. Let’s do something on Friday. How about I cook, and we can celebrate your birthday a week late?”

“You’re going to cook for me?”

“Of course. Don’t sound so surprised.”

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