Page 70 of Yes No Maybe

His grip on the towel edges me closer before his lips land softly on mine. My hands fall against his chest. I think to push him away—Iwantto push him away. But he does this wicked, teasing thing with his mouth, taking my bottom lip first and sliding his tongue across it before kissing me full-on in this soft, sexy, playful move that enflames my cold body in a second. He is salty, warm, and intense, like a crucial comfort—an addiction—that might make my heart explode in my chest for the crazy things he’s doing to my body all at once.

I can’t resist him. It’s the kiss I’ve always wanted but didn’t think existed. A unicorn kiss.

The towel falls to my feet, and we’re practically skin-to-skin. His hands go to my face, cupping my cheeks and fingers lacing in my wet hair. He hesitates, pulling away just enough to run his thumb over my lip and take me in. He issoclose to me, studying me, pressing into me like he’s on top of me, and making me feel that nothing exists outside this hidden nook, our lips, hands, and magical touches. And strangely, I want to cry for the Pandora’s box he’s cracking open, making me see what I didn’t know was there. He’s a black hole ripping open my universe, sucking me in.

Breathing hard against him, bodies tight, hands gripping, lips close, and eyes locked, we kiss again—maybe I start it this time—and I’m swept away like a boat lost at sea that capsizes under a powerful wave. This is no clumsy first kiss. My hand circles his neck, runs through his hair, and over his rough cheek, keeping him there, savoring him. My legs twitch to wrap around him, especially with his hands kneading down my back, lower and lower, until I can’t help it. My right leg raises just enough to bring his hand to my thigh. He grips it so tightly that I feel all of him against me, and I ache for more. Ache for him.

Lightning flashes and thunder cracks, jolting me back to reality.What am I doing?

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, still close to him.

“Yes, you can,” comes his stern reply. His hands lock around my waist, holding me in place.

“No, I’m not like you.” My words are weak, almost whiny, but I can’t help it, like I’m crashing after an adrenaline rush. “This means something to me. I’m not a plot line or a plaything. Or a cheater. I can’t do this to Dean.”

“Break up with Dean. Be with me.”

I yank free of his tight grasp. “Damn it, no. How dare you even say it or even think it. No, I-I can’t be one of many, Jack.”

“Fuck, that’s not what I’m asking.” He looks confused, angry even. “Rowan, is it so hard to believe I wantyou?Onlyyou?”

“Yes! You neveronlywant anyone. I’m… just the wounded girl next door. I’ll run out of stories to tell, and the words will stop flowing. What then? I’ll never be enough. Not when you can have anyone you want. Not with… so many pretty faces. Damn it, Jack. How could you do this to us?”

I grab my things and rush into the rain, desperate to get away from him.

Twenty-Three

Jack

Fuuuuucccccckkkkkk!Pissing her off wasn’t my plan.

I didn’t have a plan.

But kissing her felt necessary. Like blinking or breathing. And she didn’t stop me.

Everything between us has built like a wave at sea until it had nowhere else to go but to crash at her feet. That kiss was my confession.

And who wouldn’t want a first kiss under the boardwalk in the rain?

Maybe the woman with rules against romance?Damn it.

I think to chase her, but I can’t. I need a solid few minutes to calm down. I’m too turned on to go anywhere—she is so much more than I expected.

I lean against the piling, take deep breaths, and think about baseball. Or anything but her tender lips, her warm, sun-kissed skin, or the moment she got over her surprise and opened up to me. I still feel her lips parting against mine and the hungry exploration of her hands. And ah, she was so close to wrapping those gorgeous legs around me. So achingly close.

No—that kiss wasn’t a mistake. No matter what she says.

Those incredible five minutes brought more insight than some of our longest conversations.

For starters, all the women I’ve been with suddenly seem like opening acts for therealshow. Rowan is beautifully intense. It’s like she’s an overflowing well of heat and desire that’s gone untapped by the selfish pricks of her past. I want to fucking drink her upandbe the rain that makes her full again.

Damn it. Iamin love with her.

More distressing, she has a shit opinion of me.Plot line. Plaything. I’m not like you.Her words twist together into an ache in my stomach. She thinks I’m playing games, toying with her. That’s what she thinks I do. Thatiswhat I do.

At least, that’s what Iusedto do. There must be a way to convince her that she’s different.

The rain comes to a slow stop. I step from our hovel to find the crowds emerging from their shelters. Ed and Renita stumble from the corner bar. Good thing I’m driving.

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