Page 69 of Miss Matched

Kennedy lets out a wild laugh that shoots straight down my spine.

“And here you’re worried I’m the dangerous one?” she says. “You’ve got battle wounds.”

“Crazy,” I correct her.

She turns her body to face me. “Has no one told you not to call a lady crazy, Mr. Vincent?”

That magnetic pull that tethers me to her draws me in, and I dare trace the line of her shin with my fingers.

“It’s a compliment,” I say. A breath catches in her chest as my fingers move their way up her leg. I lean closer and bring my mouth near her ear. “You’re absolutely wild, and I love it.”

Kennedy’s cheeks flush as she takes in uneven breaths. Those thick eyelashes flutter as I move my face inches from hers.

“We can’t do this,” she whispers.

My hand continues up her side, and it sends a shiver with it, reminding me how her body feels trembling against mine. I trace all the way up her jawline and wrap my fingers into her hair at the base of her neck.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and it takes every ounce of control not to lay her down and fuck her on this roof with my dad one story below us.

“You’re seeing someone.” She swallows hard. “Someone I set you up with.”

I shake my head, and she doesn’t pull away when I tip her chin up with my free hand and force her to look me in the eyes.

“We haven’t even kissed,” I tell her, towing the line between the distance I know we should keep, and my body’s urge to close it.

“Why not?”

“Why do you think?” I trace her bottom lip with my thumb, knowing I just showed a few too many cards, but I can’t put them back now that she’s seen my hand.

Kennedy’s lip slips from my thumb as she pulls it into her mouth in an effort to hide it.

“You said you wanted more with her.”

I shrug a shoulder. “I was tired of all the dates.”

She pulls away with my words, and her gaze turns frantic. If there really is a canyon of space between us, it grows. The earth splits to the core as she processes my confession.

“You should have told me,” she says. “How am I supposed to do my job if you don’t?”

“Your job?” An invisible kick hits me square in the chest.

She rakes both hands through her hair and tips her head back. “First Chad, now you.”

“What the fuck do you mean, first Chad?”

Rage bubbles just under the surface, ready to spill out as I wait for the words. I swear, if he touched her, I’m going to fucking kill him.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, but her tone is still cold.

She stands up and starts pacing. Mumbling, forgetting the edge of a roof is not the place for this. I get up and grab her shoulders to stop her. Her gray eyes glaze when they lock on mine.

“Stop,” I tell her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t wrong.”

“I’m messing this up,” she says. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Her lips part like she’s about to continue her argument, but I plant my mouth on hers and cut her off. Desperate for her to stop thinking and just let me in. She holds back for just a moment before melting into the kiss, wrapping her arms around my neck and gripping her hands in my hair like she’s consuming her doubts.

I want to ask her if I’m enough for her to want to try, but I lose myself in her kiss instead.

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