Page 42 of Kellan & Emmett
Fuck, everything’s changed.
The ride back to the inn was thick with silence, but not the kind that was uncomfortable. Kellan leaned toward the window, one hand resting easy on his thigh, the other close enough to the gearshift that our fingers brushed when I shifted. Each time it happened, a spark ran up my arm, and each time I told myself to keep it together.
We didn’t need words, but my heart was too unsettled since Kellan’s full-bodied hug.
By the time we pulled into the lot, the front windows glowed with lamplight. A figure crossed behind the lace curtains—probably the part-timer at the desk, maybe a guest heading upstairs.Either way, walking through the main door meant stepping back under watchful eyes. Too much light. Too much risk. My hand tightened on the wheel, and without a word I swung us toward the side entrance.
The air cooled as we climbed the steps. I fumbled with the key at the narrow side door, the old lock sticking like it always did. Kellan stepped close, shoulder brushing mine, his breath warm at my temple as he murmured, “Need a hand?”
I almost laughed—because maybe I did—but then the lock gave out and the door swung open. Inside, the hallway was dim, hushed, the kind of quiet that felt meant for secrets.
I turned to make some flippant remark, anything to loosen the pull between us—but he was already there. Close enough that I caught the clean salt of his skin, the faint warmth of soap. His gaze flicked to my mouth. Just once. But it was enough.
“Jesus… Emmy.”
His hand closed in my shirt, rough and certain, and then his mouth crashed against mine. No warning. Just heat, sharp and undeniable.
The world tilted, cracked open. Twenty years fell away in a single breath. His mouth crashed against mine—harder, rougher than memory, tasting of salt and the kind of sweetness you only notice when it’s on someone you’ve wanted forever. Shock stole me for a heartbeat, then I was kissing him back, fierce and hungry, because God, I’d been waiting since I was eighteen.
This wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t careful. It was everything we hadn’t said, breaking loose all at once. His fist loosened at my shirt only to slide up, curl warm and certain at the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My palms skimmed his waist, his ribs, the solid heat of him grounding me and undoing me in the same breath.
He parted for me, and instinct took over. I pressed in, tongue tangling with his, teeth grazing just enough to draw a low sound from his throat. Breathless, burning, like the air itself didn’t exist outside this kiss. Like nothing had, for twenty years.
For a heartbeat, it was everything.
And then I felt it — the tremor in him. The way his grip faltered. His body still leaned in, hungry, but his shoulders went rigid, his breath breaking against my mouth.
He tore back half an inch, eyes wide, chest heaving. “God,” he rasped. “Someone could’ve seen. I can’t—”
But even as he said it, his hand stayed on me, still clutching my shirt like he couldn’t let go. His body didn’t match his words.
I held still, heart hammering, not giving him pity, not giving him distance either. Just giving him space to decide.
He swallowed hard, eyes searching mine like he hated what he wanted. Then it slipped out, wrecked and raw, barely a whisper: “Emmy—”
The sound gutted me. I smiled against his mouth, leaning in slow enough he could stop me. “And you’re still Kelly to me,” I murmured back.
His breath caught, broke, and then he kissed me again. Slower this time, deliberate, his hand cupping my jaw like he was testing the shape of me all over again. Our mouths moved together, aching and new, familiar and not.
When we finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed, I felt the tremble still in him. He was scared — not of me, never of me — but of everything else. Of being seen. Of admitting. Of what it meant.
And I didn’t push. I just stayed there, breathing him in, savoring the taste of him like something I’d been starving for.
Chapter 22
Kellan
I shut the door behind me and leaned back hard against it, like I needed the wood at my spine to keep me upright. The bedroom was dark except for the lamp on the nightstand, throwing a thin slice of light across the bed. My chest was still heaving, too fast, too uneven.
My mouth—God, my mouth—still tingled. Swollen. I pressed my fingertips to it like maybe I could prove to myself it happened, that it wasn’t some cruel dream my brain cooked up. But the heat still lingered there, the taste of him ghosting on my lips.
I dragged in a breath that stuttered out shaky. My pulse hammered at my throat, as wild as it had been when I was seventeen sneaking around in the dark, afraid someone might see. Afraid someone might know.
And sure as hell, the voice came back. The one I’d been carrying my whole damn life.Boys don’t kiss boys, Kellan.My father’s tone, sharp and cold, slicing through me even now. I hated it. Hated him. But I couldn’t shake it, not even after decades have passed, not even with Emmett’s hand still burned into my skin.
I shoved away from the door, pacing the small stretch of carpet like I could walk it off. But it was no use. Every step just replayed it again—the lean-in, the brush of his breath, the way his mouth fit mine like no time had passed. The way he whispered,And you’restill Kellyto me,soft and sure, like we’d never lost that piece of us.
I cursed under my breath, pressing the heel of my hand to my chest. It ached, and not just from want.
