Page 57 of Dallas

“Show me,” he says.

I turn around, and he’s so much closer than I expected him to be. My entire field of vision is filled with blue. Those blue eyes. Then my gaze dips down to his mouth. I’m suddenly seized with a hunger that I wish I didn’t understand. I do understand it. I’ve experienced it in a disconnected fashion before, like I’m standing on the other side of a glass door, and I can’t break through to the other side. Like my body is hungry for something that it won’t allow me to have. My jailer and protector all at once. Butthis time, there’s no pane of glass between myself and my desire.

This time, it isn’t theoretical, nothing that I suspect I might feel some day if the right man is in front of me, nothing that I think I might be able to conjure up if I close my eyes and throw myself into it, regardless of how I actually feel.

I want him.

I want him to kiss me. I want him to touch me. If Dallas Dodge wanted to strip my clothes off me and lay me down on the floor, I would let him do it. I wouldmorethan let him do it, I would beg him to.

That thought hits me like a flashbang. An intrusive thought. One that escaped the basement that I locked it in, ran outside and screamed as loudly as possible before I could shove it all down back inside.

He lets out a harsh breath, steps away from me, and I’m afraid that he can read my mind. That the temporary insanity of it just flashed through my thoughts was written across my eyes. I’m shaking. I’m throbbing between my legs, and my entire worldview is suddenly twisted, turned on its head. I touch the necklace.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a step away from him, and then another.

“Of course.”

“I don’t really blame you for being mad, I guess. I didn’t even know all the trouble you went to. How much money you spent.”

“It’s not… It’s not that. It’s not…”

But he did all that for me, and I did dance with another man, and if he wanted to kiss me, the way that I was thinking about kissing him only a moment ago, I can see how that would be outrageouslyoffensive.

But he doesn’t. He said so himself. He wants to protect me.

Without thinking, I reach up and touch his cheek. Then I lean in quickly and press my mouth to his.

His breath is sharp, indrawn, and for a brief second, he presses his large hands to my lower back and just holds me there.

Then we part.

It’s a sweet kiss. One that could easily pass between friends, family. Except for when he put his hand, on my lower back. But that might’ve been an innate response learned from all the women who have kissed him before, and nothing quite so purposeful.

A humbling thought.

“Thank you,” I mumble, my lips on fire, my heart beating recklessly. I’m dizzy. I’ve never kissed anyone before at all. Not like that, not in any regard. So even though it was just a little peck, it’s still rocked my whole existence.

He clears his throat. “I… yeah. I… you’re welcome.”

If he had been planning to say something more eloquent, it’s lost. That’s fine, because I probably wouldn’t be able to hear it over the buzzing in my ears.

“I’ve got to go. I’m… I’m doing some work over at my uncle’s today.”

“Oh.”

I’m disappointed. I want to get things back on track with the two of us. I want to do something normal. I want to watch the next installment of The Hobbit. I want him to tease me and throw popcorn bags at me. I want to go for a walk with him, eat dinner with his family. I want to do something to smooth over the last twenty-four hours, that kiss definitelywasn’tit.

“I can bring you something back for dinner.”

“Oh, I’d like that.”

“You have the day off, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m probably going to catch up on homework.”

“Good. Sounds good.”

And then he turns and leaves me standing there, my lips still burning. I guess we fixed everything. I’m not sure why it doesn’t quite feel like it.

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