Page 59 of That One Night
Her brows dipped, like she was actually trying to remember. “I did the couch to five K thing a few years ago. Well, I started it. And then I decided I liked the couch part better.”
He couldn’t help it. He grinned. And she rolled her eyes at him.
“But I can certainly walk it,” she told him. “Alone.”
And then, before he could answer her, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him. Like she thought that would give her the edge to start running without him. Normally, that kind of push wouldn’t make him move an inch. He was strong, he was balanced, and as annoying as she was, she was far less powerful.
Physically, at least.
But she took him by surprise. Enough for him to step back, his heel clipping whatever rock had seen fit to nestle into the ground behind him. Maybe it was the way the adrenaline was still rushing through him, or maybe it was the way her hands felt so soft on his chest.
Whatever it was, he lost his balance spectacularly. He stumbled back, his arms shooting out in a vain attempt to regain his equilibrium, before he fell back into the grass, his body hitting the ground with a thud.
From this position, the sky was an almost perfect blue-black, yellow stars twinkling like pinpricks in the velvety heavens.
“Oh my God!” Emery muttered. “Oh crap, I didn’t mean to.”
She dropped to her knees next to him. “Hendrix, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. Are you okay?”
He frowned. “Where am I?”
“Oh no.” Her breath was coming rapidly now.
“Who are you?” he asked her.
“I’m Emery. I live across the street from you.” She reached out to touch his head. “Does it hurt? Do you have a concussion?”She was leaning over him, her face close to his. He could feel her breath on his skin. “Stay here. I’ll call somebody. An ambulance.” She stroked his hair softly, and it felt good.
“Or you could get in my truck and let me drive you home,” he growled, capturing her wrist in his, pulling her even closer toward him.
“You asshole! I thought you were hurt.” She frowned at him, and he couldn’t help but start to laugh.
Christ, she was so pretty. And so close. He could feel her thighs against his as she leaned over him. Her mouth parted as she glared at him.
He wanted to pull her closer. Wanted her body on top of his. Wanted his mouth on hers.
Instantly, he was hard.
Releasing his hold on her wrist, he took a deep breath. “You need to move,” he told her gruffly.
“Why?” he could feel her breath on his face as she spoke. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He shook his head slowly. No he wasn’t. He was so far from okay it wasn’t funny. “If you don’t move, I’m going to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
“So please move,” he muttered. “Before I lose my goddamned mind.”
She was still staring at him. Her legs were still touching his in the most maddeningly delightful way. And he was aching for her.
“What if I don’t want to move?” she asked him.
Yeah, he was definitely losing his mind.
“Then I’ll move you.” It wasn’t a threat. His tone was more playful than that. Like it already knew what his heart was feeling. What his whole body was feeling. A flicker of interest washed over her face as she pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth.
Did she know how beautiful she was? He didn’t think so. He got the impression that life had beaten that out of her, one painful experience at a time.
“Try it,” she whispered, her chest lifting as she inhaled sharply. Like she’d forgotten to breathe until her lungs began to protest.
