Page 28 of Cross Check Hearts

I don’t have a clue how I got here or what made her decide to kiss me, but Hannah is in my arms, her lips pressed firmly against mine, and I feel alive again. I kiss her back with a hunger that’s been building since the moment I recognized her in the locker room. My tongue meets hers, exploring the inside of her perfect mouth as I use my body to guide her back against my bike, cradling her against me.

“T’as encore meilleur goût que dans mes souvenirs,” I mutter, clutching her face in both hands.

She shudders in response, and I rest my hand on her throat to pull her in for an even deeper kiss than before. She arches against me, her body seeking mine as if she can’t help herself. My entire body responds, blood rushing south in response.

But then her hands fly out, pressing gently against my chest and breaking our kiss.

I back off, although it physically pains me to do it.

We stare at each other in near disbelief, breathing heavily and unable to speak. Hannah’s pupils are blown wide, darkening the green and blue of her irises, and her cheeks are flushed pink. She looks like a fucking dream.

She pushes off my bike and licks her lips, and my body lurches instinctively like it wants to chase her tongue back into her mouth with mine, but I fight it. I need to let her set the pace, even when every cell in my body is screaming to close the distance between us again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake,” she says quietly without looking me in the eye, probably because she doesn’t trust herself to do it.

Her body is betraying her words again—her rapid breathing, her flushed skin, the way she can’t quite meet my gaze—but I’d be a fucking liar if I said those last four words that just left her mouth didn’t sting.

“I just needed to get it out of my system,” she whispers. “You know, break the tension that’s been building between us since you started with the Aces. Now we can go back to being just casual acquaintances. We can act like what happened between us was?—”

“Say it was nothing,” I interrupt her, and her eyes dart up to mine before she diverts them again. “I dare you.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at the asphalt, so I reach for her chin and gently tilt it up toward me to look her in the eye.

“You should never apologize for kissing me, hummingbird,” I murmur. “There will never be a time when I don’t want to kiss you. And as for it being a mistake? I don’t think so.”

She tries to look away from me, but I squeeze her chin gently to get her attention again, and her eyes snap to mine. “I want you to listen to me very carefully because I’m only going to say this once, and you need to hear it.”

Her eyes frantically search my face, but finally settle back on mine and she nods.

“That night at Opal and Oak? It was one of the best of my life—because of you. I’ve never been drawn to anyone the way that I am to you,” I tell her honestly. “But I think you already know that, don’t you?”

She nods again, but it’s a little hesitant, so I move my hand down to her throat again, stroking its edge softly with my thumb and resisting the powerful, almost primal urge to plant my mouth there. To taste the pulse that’s fluttering wildly beneath my fingertips.

“But seeing as youdon’thave a boyfriend,” I start again, pausing to give the words more weight, “From now on, I’m going to do everything I can to convince you that I’m the right man for that job. Not him.”

There it is—everything she needs to know. No games, no pretending this is casual. I want her to know exactly where I stand.

Another moment crackles between us, so thick with tension and possibility that it’s hard to breathe. We stand staring into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the rest of the world around us, and I feel like time stops. Just like the night we spent together at Opal and Oak seemed to stretch on forever, time bends around us, pulled taut from opposite ends until there’s no end in sight on either side.

All I see is Hannah, her beautiful, full lips, the redness shining on her cheeks, and her chest rising and falling rapidly with each of the labored breaths she takes.

“I have to go,” she says, although the words seem like they’re hard to get out. Time snaps back to motion, but Hannah doesn’t move or do anything to put distance between us. Yet again, I can’t help noticing the way her body is in conflict with her words. I don’t think she really wants to go anywhere at all, she’s just scared of what’s happening between us. “I have a full day of classes tomorrow, and I have some more studying I need to do.”

“Okay,” I say, stepping back. I’d never want to stand between her and what’s important to her.

Her education matters. Her goals matter. I want to be part of her life, not an obstacle in it.

But she still lingers, her eyes on mine as if she’s trying to summon the courage to leave. I can’t tell what’s going on inside her head—fuck, I wish I could—but something is playing out on her face that I’m not sure she’s even consciously aware of.

But I am.

Finally, she steps away from my bike, giving me a wide berth like she’s expecting me to pull her into my arms again. And honestly, it’s difficult to resist the urge to do exactly that. But I can’t let her get away without making sure I’m going to see her again soon.

“Hannah,” I call to her, and she stops to look over her shoulder at me. “When is our next session?”

“Same time next week?”

I smirk at her. “I wouldn’t miss it. Good luck with the studying.”

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