Page 103 of Beautifully Wounded

I shift a little closer, moving slowly, waiting to see if she’ll tell me to stop, or push me away. Our eyes are locked on each other’s, her caramel pools darker than I’ve seen them. My nose brushes hers, so delicate and soft against mine, and I’m prettyfucking certain my bushy mane of a beard is tickling the skin around her lips and chin.

I’ve kissed women before. Too many to count. But never have I felt my fucking heart beat in my chest so hard and fast that I feel like it’s about to explode.

Never has the mere closeness caused such a feeling of anticipation that I don’t want to rush over the line just yet, instead, relishing how fucking thrilling it is just to have her here like this, our lips so close that our breath is already mingling, even though our lips aren’t touching.

“Angel,” I rasp, and she whimpers like she’s aching. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

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“Angel,” he rasps, and ohhhh, the deep gravel in his tone shoots straight between my legs and I whimper.

Like actually whimper.

How embarrassing.

If he thinks my reaction is funny, he doesn’t show it, his dark eyes appearing almost drunk before he speaks.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

I can’t breathe, his close proximity seizing the air in my lungs.

Is this really happening?

Is he really going to kiss me without me having to ask pathetically?

And am I going to let him?

Oh, my… I really want to let him, and I don’t understand why.

Why does this man, like a real grown-arse man, not a boy like the idiots my age back in Fox Pines, but an actual man thatbelongs to a scary outlaw motorcycle club who is covered in tattoos and has a beard that I would normally think gross, yet ache to feel graze against my lips again, and who has a gun… why, oh why am I so drawn to him?

Maybe it’s because of how safe he makes me feel, even when I’m scared.

I have no idea if that makes sense. Nothing is making any sense right now, but all I can think about is feeling his lips on mine.

Finally, as if time slows, he closes the distance and—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Stiffening right before our lips touch, Ringo pulls back and hurriedly searches for the source of the beeping.

A shuddering breath releases from me as the spell we were under slips away the moment he finds the source of the noise.

His phone.

“Fuck,” he mutters, quickly easing me from his lap a moment before a loud thump rattles the door of his room.

“Ringo!”

The voice belongs to JD, and I scurry to the corner of the couch as Ringo lurches up and opens the door.

“Have they checked in?” Ringo snaps and I notice JD’s eyes move past him to glance at me as he shakes his head.

“No, they aren’t answering.”

“Fuck. Where’s Lewy? I need to know if we have eyes,” Ringo snaps, turning back to the room and storming to the closet, where he shucks on his leather vest.

“Lewy is working on it now.” It’s Jols’ voice this time as she pushes past JD in the doorway and when her eyes meet mine, she offers me a warm smile.

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