Page 68 of Reckless Temptation

I headed toward the closest parking lot to the art buildings and found a spot there. I’d sent that ice pack to the art studio that he was listed as using on the art department website. Maybe he’d be there. Or maybe I could wait for him there. It felt like a reach, but I couldn’t hold back on this need to… well, to see him. It was just like his seeking me out and watching me at the beach cleanup.

At the door to his studio, I knocked and waited for a reply. Music drifted from inside, but no one answered my knocks.

Is he even here?

I was tense and on edge, nervous to be taking the initiative like this to pursue him, for a change.

I knocked louder.

No one answered, but when I touched the doorknob, I was surprised and relieved that it was open and unlocked.

Just go. Don’t chicken out now.

I hesitated, though, because this was a huge step in a different direction. I was going after him. And I had to. Because more of my heart cracked and crumbled when I thought of his hurting and feeling so mad at the world.

My bleeding heart couldn’t stand it. And my growing feelings for him kept me wishing I could be a source of security and comfort like he had been for me.

Mind made up, I turned the knob and pushed the door in. With this slight entrance to the art studio, I was immediately accosted with the strong scent of paint and the low chords of alternative rock playing somewhere inside.

Stepping inside fully, I kept my hand on the door to close it fully.

He was here, all right, clearly not hearing the knock with the music playing. It suited him, too, a low, slow song about loss.

With that strange magnetism that was at play whenever we were near, he looked up. He felt my focus on him, just like I could tell when he was watching me. Spying and lurking. Stalking, even.

His brow furrowed as he paused lifting a paintbrush to a canvas. His jeans were splattered. The white T-shirt was smudged withgrays and blues. But it was the torment in his eyes that caught and held my attention the most.

The pain was still there beneath the surprise.

He would be surprised that I was here.

This was the first time I was making a move to be near him.

Without giving him a chance to wonder why I’d shown up, I ran across the studio space, so glad that I’d found him alone here. Before I reached him, he dropped the paintbrush, freeing his hands to catch me as I launched at him. Hugging him fiercely, I wished I could infuse him with something good. Anything that could lend him comfort to counter the sadness and pain.

“Sabrina?” He didn’t step back, returning the embrace with his muscled arms locking tightly around me.

I couldn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t rehearsed anything, and I wasn’t sure how I could ever plan to explain to him that his mom was unloading her heartache to me, assuming I was a stranger.

Instead, I reached up and kissed him, pouring out all the affection that I couldn’t put into words.

24

NICK

The last time Sabrina and I were alone, I had to work hard to get her to surrender for what she really wanted. Me.

With her showing up out of the blue at the studio, I felt thrown off balance more than I usually was.

But as she hugged me, I closed my eyes and savored her soft body wrapped around mine. Whoever said hugs fixed people was right. Just having her in my arms was a balm on my soul.

Still, the questions plagued me. I was confused. And with how seriously intense she looked as she ran to me, I was worried.

Had something happened to push her to come to me?

How could she have guessed that I’d be here?

But most importantly, why?

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