Page 24 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
Bending down, he placed his lips just shy of hers. “Nunca tienes que tener miedo de mí.”
A tiny furrow appeared between her brows.
He repeated himself in English. “You never have to be afraid of me.”
Her eyes searched his, frantic back and forth. Whatever she was looking for, she must’ve found it.
Because she surged forward and kissed him.
It took him by surprise. But only for a second.
Her lips were soft, tentative. Unlike in his fantasies, they were chaste. But he tilted his jaw, deepening it, and she melted. Her mouth parted for him. His tongue slid in, tasting her. Warm, sweet, a little salty.
He slipped a hand behind her neck, thumb pressing lightly over her pulse. She whimpered.
A slow burn ignited in his stomach. He fought the urge to drop his hands to her waist, knowing exactly how much faster things would escalate.
But things were already going there.
She was fully open for him, pressing into him, responding like she wanted?—
And then, suddenly, she tore away.
They were both breathing hard. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. He swung away from her, staring out at the lake. Trying to get himself under control. Trying not to think about the way her mouth had felt against his.
“I’ll take you home.”
She didn’t answer. When he turned back, she had her hands pressed to her cheeks.
And to his horror, she was crying.
His stomach dropped. “Jesus, Julia…”
She wiped her eyes quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She nodded, like she was convincing herself more than him. Then she turned and fumbled for the door handle.
He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair.
He’d known he was going to fuck this up.
But just once, it would’ve been nice to have been wrong.
* * *
“I’d take you right up to your door, but I don’t wanna freak your parents out.”
Julia had been staring out the passenger window, seeing nothing. She took a moment to register where they were. Idling in the lane opposite her drive.
She looked across at Daniel. His profile was cut out of the lights of her house beyond. It was a perfectly fluid line. Smooth forehead. Straight nose. Crisp jaw.
“They’re not home,” she said. Then she realized what she should have said. “And you wouldn’t freak them out.”
In her head though, she was thinking,he has face tattoos. They would definitely freak out.
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile that implied he’d heard her thoughts and not her words.
“I’m sorry,” she said. But she wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for intolerant parents, or for her own freak out on the beach. She wanted to blame it on the weed, and maybe that had something to do with. But it wasn’t the main reason.
