Page 41 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
He was nodding along with me, bottom lip sucked tight between his teeth and eyes on where my hands had wrapped around his. “You’re right. I can do this.”
“You can,” I said, squeezing his hands.
He looked at me then and his nose flared. “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m not scared, but I believe you when you say I can do it. I believe you when you say it will be okay.”
“Good. Because I’m right, like, ninety-seven percent of the time.”
He cracked the smallest smile at my lame attempt at a joke. There he is, I thought. There’s my Jamie.
“I think I’m going to go home this summer, try to help my dad turn it around.”
“You should. It’d be a great experience for you and I know your dad would love having you around.”
“Would you come with me?”
His question knocked the breath from my chest, as if I’d forgotten I was alone on a dark beach with him until that exact moment. I pulled my hands from his and tucked them in my lap. “I don’t know what my plans are for the summer yet. But you’ll be fine without me.”
“You’ve been pulling back lately,” Jamie whispered. I shook my head, not ready to have this conversation. “You have. Don’t lie to me.”
“I never could.”
“So then tell me what’s going on.”
I sighed, debating how likely it would be that Jamie would let me change the subject, but I knew Jamie well enough to know he wouldn’t let this go. A part of me was ready to talk about it, though — to tell him why I’d been staying away. Maybe if I got it all out in the open, he would respect my decision. Maybe he’d understand.
“Ethan feels threatened by you, I think.” Jamie’s eyes widened at that and I shook my head. “That’s the wrong word. He just… I don’t know. He feels like he has to compete with you. And I hate that I made him feel that way. I just need to focus on my relationship with him and I can’t do that if he sees me spending all my time with another man.”
“But we’re us,” Jamie argued. “It’s always been us.”
“Has it?” I argued, peeking up at him through my lashes. “Seems to me like it’s always been us and other people.” I cringed a little as the words left my mouth, but I didn’t take them back.
The greenish-gold of Jamie’s eyes was glowing fiercely in the bright light from the moon, but they shifted in that moment. I watched in what felt like slow motion as the vulnerability that existed in them just moments before was replaced by an insatiable hunger.
“It’s just us right now,” he said, voice low.
“Jamie…”
“You said you could never lie to me.”
The air around us was tightening, catching fire. “I couldn’t.”
“So then tell me, B,” he urged, reaching out for my hands that were tucked in my lap. He grabbed me by the wrists and pulled me closer. “Is it Ethan scared of you being alone with me, or is it you who’s afraid?”
My breaths were hollow, especially when his jaw ticked beneath the skin as he waited for my answer.
“Both.”
He licked his lips. “Why?”
Each breath I sucked in through my nose burned, like it was poisonous, like the next breath might be my last. “Because I don’t trust myself when I’m with you.”
Jamie squeezed his eyes tight and blew out a hard breath through his nose, his right hand dropping mine and running up my arm before sliding to my neck. When his eyes shot open again, they were dangerous, thirsty, ravenous. He leaned in closer and I pulled away, farther and farther until I was leaning back and he was on his knees in front of me.
“Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?”
“Yes,” I lied, proving my previous statement wrong. I wanted him to kiss me — God, I wanted him to kiss me. It was all I could do to pull back from the way he pushed himself into my space. But a normal girl with a boyfriend would have been mad. That’s why he asked me. And that’s why I lied. I tried to hold onto the last thread of morality I had, but he snapped it in half with his next sentence.
“Then I hope you’ll forgive me later.”
Jamie closed the distance between us and I opened my mouth to stop him, but he was already there, catching my words with the sweep of his tongue against mine. I gasped into his kiss, pushing up onto my knees to meet him and he groaned at the sound, his hands sliding under my sweater to grip my waist.
He didn’t ask if it was okay to keep kissing me. He didn’t need to. I was tugging at his hoodie, wanting him closer, wanting more of his tongue, his touch, his scent. He broke our kiss long enough to trail his teeth down my neck, sliding his hands up my waist until his thumbs brushed the lace of my bra.
