Page 67 of Past the Broken Bridges

The admission has her staring at the profile of my face. From the corner of my eye, I see her rubbing her lips together as she studies me carefully. “I’m not sure if that’s sad or flattering.”

I pause in spreading the sauce. “Why would that be sad?”

She shrugs. “Because you should have plenty of places to go.”

Half my lips curl up. “I said I’d rather be here because I want to be. Not because I have no other choice. There’s a difference.”

Sawyer starts playing with her hair again. “Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?”

Maybe I’m not as great at masking my feelings as I thought I was. My mood suffers after leaving my dad’s, and it never just goes away, as much as I wish it did. “Don’t we all have secrets we like keeping under lock and key?” I tip my chin toward her bedroom. “I’m sure even you’ve got a few skeletons in your closet, Birdie.”

Her eyes go to the back room before returning to the onion to evade the conversation. “So how do you want me to cut this?”

The way she drops it so easily makes me wonder how many secrets she’s keeping, especially when I see the telltale sign of color creeping into her face.

What are you hiding, Birdie?

“Here,” I offer when I see her holding the knife in a dangerous way. “I’ve watched enough Food Network to know that won’t end well.”

She doesn’t object when I step behind her and position her hands exactly where they need to be so they’re away from the blade. I help her chop the way I’ve seen it done before, taking my time.

I could let go. Let her do it herself.

But I don’t.

I hear her shudder a breath.

My lips graze her ear. “You okay?”

A shiver racks down her spine, moving her against my front and waking up a very specific part of me. She freezes, and I wonder if she can feel it. And just when I’m about to move back and apologize, she uses her ass to put more pressure on the hardening length growing.

Groaning, I murmur a pained “Sawyer…”

I realize I’m white-knuckling her hand as we hold onto the knife handle, so I let go and take a deep breath to try calming the roaring fire building under my skin.

It hasn’t beenthatlong since I’ve sunk between a pretty pair of thighs, but my dick is acting like it’s been years.

Slowly, Sawyer manages to turn in my arms until the bulge trapped behind thick denim is pressed against her front.

“Why do you prefer casual hookups?” she asks, her hands moving to my face and tracing the bruise that’s slowly fading on my cheek.

I hate that her touch makes goose bumps rise on my arms, but it does. “It’s easier,” I answer, staring down at her. We have an entire apartment, but the space between us makes it feel like the walls are closing us in.

Her warm breath caresses my chin as she releases it, her fingertips dancing along my cheek and then down to my jawline. “Easier to handle or easier to end it?”

I swallow at the question. “Both.”

For a moment, she only watches me. There’s something in her eyes that clouds them, and I wonder if I should have lied. But it’s better to be honest. I haven’t had a serious relationship in…ever, really. Not unless you count high school. And how serious can teenage relationships be when you don’t know shit about life or love?

The last thing I expect her to whisper is “Good” before lifting to close the distance between us and pressing her lips against mine.

They’re firm and sure and confident, taking me by surprise. I pull back only a fraction, breaking the kiss to look at her. “What are you doing, Birdie?”

She only hesitates a moment, her skin feeling welcoming and warm when I put my hand on the small of her waist. “I think casual would be…good.”

Fuck me.I can’t be hearing this right. “You don’t mean that.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

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