Page 18 of Beautiful Rush
“Sasha. He was also my last kiss before you.” Her eyes widened and she looked like she wanted to kick herself for supplying that information.
I was only the second person she’d kissed in her life. How was that possible? Not for lack of takers, that was for damn sure. Her lips were so kissable they practically begged to be kissed. Devoured. By me. I didn’t want anyone else to kiss those lips except me.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m choosy. Or difficult. Or complicated. Or messed-up. Maybe for all those reasons. Or maybe for none of them.”
“I didn’t realize this was a multiple-choice question. I’ll choose D. None of the above. Do you always overthink a kiss?”
“I’m not really talking about kissing anymore.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “I’ve moved on.”
“To sex?”
“Maybe. Or relationships in general.”
“Are you for them or against them?”
“I’m sure they’re fine for some people but not for me.”
“Because you’re choosy and difficult and complicated and messed-up?”
“Because I don’t want to get caught in a trap. I don’t want anyone to ever think they own me and can control me.” She jutted out her chin as if daring me to contradict her.
“And you think that’s what happens in a relationship?”
“Not all relationships. Just the bad ones.”
“And you don’t think you could have a good one?”
“This is starting to feel like a shrink session.”
She was right. I checked the non-existent watch on my wrist. “Our hour’s up. Did you feel our time has been valuable today, Miss Shaughnessy?”
She laughed and nudged my shoulder. “You’re funny, Batman.”
“Time to get back to fighting crime in Gotham City.” I stood up and took her hands in mine, pulling her off the sofa so she was standing in front of me. I used both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears so I could see her face. The sharpness of her high cheekbones softened by the pretty bee-stung lips that I wanted to brand as my own.
“How about you give me a goodbye kiss? Then we can tell everyone we’re going steady.”
She stared at my mouth, then her eyes snapped to mine. “Don’t get any ideas, Detective. I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Neither am I, so you’re safe.” Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew we weren’t safe.
She smiled. “Okay, you can kiss me.”
“No.” Her face dropped. “You kiss me.”
She swallowed, not expecting that. I waited for her to make the next move. It was like we were in a Mexican standoff. The girl could drive like a Formula One racecar driver, fearless and reckless, yet she was chewing on her bottom lip as if her life depended on this kiss.
“Don’t overthink it,” I said quietly. “Just do it. Or not.”
I knew she wanted to do it. She took a tentative step closer and wrapped her arms around my neck. Then she took a deep breath as if she was gearing up to do something monumental, something so much more than just a kiss. Without breaking eye contact, she pressed her soft lips against mine and for a few long moments, we stayed like that, our lips touching, her arms around my neck, our eyes open. I moved my hands to her waist and rested them there, not pressing for more. I wondered if she knew that this felt more intimate than a kiss. I felt her smile against my lips and then she pulled back to look at my face.
I squeezed her hip and released her. “Goodnight, Gracie.”
“Goodnight, Kosta.”
I strode out the door, blue balls intact. As I jogged down the stairs, I chuckled soundlessly. The joke was on me.
