Page 69 of Past the Broken Bridges

“Why do you want this, Birdie?” I finally ask, not understanding. “Why not more?”

More than me.

More than something disposable.

I’m not a bad guy, but my track record with women is pathetic. I’ll be the first to admit it. My daddy issues are the biggest reason why. The closer people get, the closer they are to seeing a part of my life that I barely let myself accept. I don’t want them to get to know me—know the truth. It’s my problem to bear, not theirs.

“Not everybody believes in happily ever after, Banks” is her quiet, thoughtful response. “Some people are realists.”

All I can do is stare. I know my reasons for not wanting to get too close, but what are hers?

As if she can sense my curiosity, she subtly shakes her head. It’s only fair that I keep out of her business the way she isn’t pushing into mine. No matter how badly I want to.

“So?” she says instead, her hands moving down, down, down and stopping at the waistband of my pants. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

My mind tells me again to turn her down.

For Dawson.

For her.

But that’s not what I say.

In fact, I don’t say anything. Not right away.

I pick her up and set her on the edge of the counter, careful not to hit the abandoned cutting board full of onions. Pushing them back, I step between her legs and curl my fingers around the nape of her neck.

Hovering my lips over hers, I let them barely graze as I murmur, “Are you sure you want this?”

Her hands find my sides, her fingertips burrowing into my skin just above the elastic of my jeans. She doesn’t say anything, only nods.

That’s when I get my first real taste of her.

I don’t count the last kiss. Or the one in the truck. I never had the opportunity to really savor those moments because I forced myself to back off—to hold back.

Not this time.

This time, she’s asking for it.

And I’m not about to say no.

This kiss is hardly friendly, and maybe later I’ll worry that I was too rough, but it’s exactly what I need after this shitty day. Soon, her mouth is helping me release all the pent-up frustration that tensed my shoulders, and the little drowned-out moans that I swallow are the beginning of my undoing.

As much as I want to take this further—and damn, do I want to get her out of these shorts—I know now isn’t the time.

I don’t know how long we kiss for before I break it, grinning at how swollen her lips are from all the nipping, biting, and sucking that I just did to them. Satisfaction soaks into me, mixed with a small amount of disappointment when I mentally will my boner to go down.

“We should stop,” I tell her, squeezing her hips and staring down at all the creamy skin exposed to me.

She lets out a shaky breath, touching her lips. She’s flushed, her eyes glazed with lust like I imagine mine are too. “We don’t have to.”

I chuckle, taking a step back to put distance between us when her hands wander. “I want to do this,” I tell her. “But not today. Not like this. I’m… It’s been a long day.”

She frowns, concern quickly washing away the sated expression that was there. “I’m sorry if I—”

“No. Don’t. Believe me when I say I’m not sorry at all. In fact, I know exactly what I want to do to you when I’m in a better headspace. That’s just not today.”

Sawyer gapes at me, and I’m a little disappointed she isn’t asking for details. Because I’d happily tell her about what other parts of her I’d like to taste, if only once.

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