Page 22 of Inherited Light
The anxiety and anger at Cinn drained away a little as I stared into her beautiful amber eyes. “I promised I would,” I said, kneeling by her chair. “I keep my promises. Besides, I haven’t quit thinking about you since I left last night,” I admitted.
I leaned forward and held her eyes as my lips lowered toward hers. Her hand slithered up into my hair, knocking the pencil out, but neither of us cared. My lips were on hers and the kiss heated instantly. When we hit the boiling point, it was more than I could take. I dropped my jaw and let my tongue roam free, trailing along her closed lips, following my emotions and encouraging her to follow hers. She did and when her lips fell open, my tongue darted in to take possession of her mouth. I moaned softly, taking her face in my hands and rubbing my thumb across her temple, until she sighed with satisfaction.
My phone broke into song and I jumped back, feeling as if someone caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. I put my hand to my chest. “Dang phone, it scared me.”
She laughed softly, her tone still low and sexy, as though the kiss had meant as much to her as it did to me. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” she asked.
My lips thinned into a grim line as I considered it and I finally shook my head. “I already know who it is. I don’t want to talk to her right now.”
Chapter Eight
I ran my hands through my hair and paced the floor. The scene with Cinn threw me, but the kiss with Cat destroyed me. My heart was broken by both women and I needed time to gather myself. Cinn broke it in a bad way when she went after me for being honest. Cat broke it in a beautiful way when she let me experience her own feelings and fears through our kiss.
Cat stopped me on the way by, tugged the phone from my pocket, and clicked the power button. “Cinn.”
“Yep, it was definitely her ringtone.” I held my hand out for the phone and she put it back in my hand, her head cocked to one side.
“How about I get you a beer and you tell me what happened?” she asked as I put the phone in my pocket.
“Probably not a good idea, Cat,” I said. “I’m here to talk with you about the ramp.”
She waved her hand at the front door. “The ramp can wait. I sense you could use a sandwich and a beer?” she asked again.
I leaned over her, resting my hands on her wheelchair. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are today?”
She snickered and grabbed my shirtfront. “You have, and I’m certain this is the picture of beauty after spending two hours hauling canvases around in the heat.”
“Yeah, you are,” I said, kissing her again before pushing myself up off her chair. “And I’m sorry for constantly kissing you. I’m out of sorts and probably shouldn’t have come today.”
She pointed to the couch for me to sit, so I did. She wheeled into the kitchen and I could hear her banging around making sandwiches. I took my phone out of my pocket again and read the text message when I heard it beep. Foster had texted and asked, “All I want to know is if you’re safe. The rest is between you and her.”
I tapped the phone on my hand for a minute and finally typed out the message.“I’m at Cat’s. I’m sorry if I got you in hot water, but I don’t regret what I said.”
His typing bubble popped up then down then up again. I wondered if he felt the same way I did right then, sick to my stomach and angry I let my temper get the better of me.
“No need to apologize. You hit a nerve because it’s a raw one, and you aren’t wrong. Give her some time and she’ll come around. Enjoy your time with Cat.”
I put the phone down when Cat rolled back in with a tray full of sandwiches, fruit, and two beers. She motioned me over to the table and set it all out, waiting for me to join her. I hoisted myself up and sat in a chair next to hers. I took a swig of beer, setting it down harder than I meant to and she paused in her work.
“Sorry. I’m screwing up with all the women I’m around today.”
She parked her chair and transferred to one of the dining room chairs. I stood and scooted her up to the table, so she could reach her food. She took a bite, making a point; It was time to eat, and then we would talk. I picked up my sandwich, checking it to find fresh medium rare roast beef and provolone cheese. I took a bite, the bread and cheese drawing out the flavor of the meat. I took a drink of my beer to wash it down. “Oh, this is sandwich nirvana,” I complimented her. “The bread tastes homemade.”
She nodded. “Because it is homemade. Baking is what I do when I’m bored, lonely, thinking, or having an artistic block.”
I raised a brow and glanced at the sandwich. “This bread can’t be more than a day old.”
She glanced at the clock and answered, “Fourteen hours, to be exact.”
I did the math and cocked my head sideways. “Why were you baking bread at two a.m.?” I asked, enjoying the sandwich. “Artistic block?”
She set her sandwich down and finished chewing before she answered. “No. I was thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?” I asked, leaning back with the rest of my beer.
“Life, love, and the pursuit of happiness?”
“I think it goes, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
