Page 32 of One Little Kiss
But really…I’ve hugged Noelle countless times. This is not a big deal.
Even as I think it, I feel her stiffen when I wrap my arms around her. But it only lasts for a second and then she’s melting against me. Her warmth is overwhelming. Her scent wraps around me and I feel every inch of her pressed against my body. Her cheek rests against my heart as her arms wrap around my waist. She holds on tight. So tight, I crush her to me because I know without her telling me that this is what she needs.
She needs to be held and protected, and my stubborn Noelle would never, ever admit it aloud.
Time passes but I don’t know how long. It’s long enough for me to be utterly aware of her in every sense. I feel her breath through my T-shirt, and the rise and fall of her chest. The only sound in this kitchen is the muted noises from the party outside and our breathing, which is ragged and uneven on both our parts.
I don’t want to notice how good she feels in my arms. I hate that my body is reacting to her warmth and her softness. I try to block it out, but my brain is useless.
The drinks, the adrenaline, the freakin’ storm of emotions that I’ve been battling on all sides lately…
I’m helpless against this surge of sensations even as I try to reason my way out of it.
You’ve held her like this countless times. This is no different.
But it is.
It is different. And I have no idea why. I don’t know what’s changed, or how to change it back.
Worse, I don’t know if I want to go back.
Crap. I know nothing.
And what little I do know is muddled as hell right now thanks to her closeness and the fog of alcohol.
I don’t even realize I’m stroking her back until her breath catches, and then…
And then my heart splits in two right then and there because with a little catch of breath she starts to cry.
I feel the wetness of her tears when she turns her face into my chest as her shoulders shake. I lean down, burying my face in her hair as I do my best to surround her with my body. Like if I hold her tight enough I can absorb her pain and protect her from anything.
“Hey, don’t cry,” I say, but my words are muffled against her hair and the feel of her fingers curling into my T-shirt is nearly my undoing.
I’ll do anything to make her feel better. To show her she’s safe. She’s loved.
She’s mine.
I brush off the thought as she pulls back slightly to look up at me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so stupid.”
At least that’s what I think she says. She’s muttering and sniffling, and I can’t stop myself from lifting a hand to wipe away her tears.
Her skin is softer than silk beneath my fingers and I settle my hand there, cupping her face in my palm as my thumb brushes away the errant tears. “Don’t cry, babe. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She nods a little, but her gaze won’t meet mine and I hate the defeat I see there.
I’m desperate to make her pain go away, and at some point my gaze has locked on her lips. On this crazy need that’s forming, mingling with this desperate clawing inside me to show her how much she matters. To show her how much I care, and…
I don’t even realize I’m lowering my head toward hers until her gaze flicks up to meet mine. Her eyes widen, then her gaze dips to my mouth before she takes a step back. My hands fall away as she forces a smile and punches out a brittle laugh.
“My ride’s probably here,” she says, looking anywhere but at me.
“Yeah.” I nod, shoving my hands in my pockets as my heart plummets and ice fills my veins. “You’re probably right.”
She’s already fumbling with her phone, mumbling something about how she missed the driver’s text. And then she’s heading for the door before I can stop her.
It’s for the best, I tell myself as I stand there alone in the middle of my kitchen, staring at the space where she’d been.
I’m in shock over what I just did.
