Page 51 of Making New Plans

But then Hunter stilled, too, as if he could sense what I was feeling. His chest expanded against my shoulder blades with a long breath. In one quick move, he spun me around to face him. He paused just long enough for me to see the same fireworks of emotions in his eyes before he brought his mouth to mine in one hard, searing kiss.

My eyes slammed shut as his soft lips moved over mine and his heart thundered under my fingertips. My blood sang in my ears. I clutched him to me, my fingers digging greedily into his back before proceeding to stroke and touch everywhere I could reach like they’d taken down the Do Not Touch signs at an art exhibit.

Our bodies were welded together. I felt like I’d caught fire wrapped in his arms with his tongue whispering against mine. Somehow kissing him drowned out an entire club of screaming hard rockers and unlocked something much deeper.

Each second we gave in, the fire between us grew and grew until it felt like we were nearing an explosion. Why was it always this way with us? Why was it so hard to stop?

Words faded from my mind as he lifted me off my tiptoes and consumed what was left of the space between us. His smooth lips melted into mine over and over like he couldn’t get enough and wanted more and more. I gave him everything I had and then some. His kiss consumed me so intensely it was like he was kissing other parts of my body his mouth hadn’t touched. Yet.

But then he pulled back. So slowly I could feel our lips unsealing and parting. Like they couldn’t bear to let go. And still he stayed in my space. Taking up my thoughts, my ability to move, my oxygen.

“Chloe,” he breathed.

At least I thought he did from the way those amazing lips moved. The roar of the crowd came surging back to my ears, reminding me where we were.

But I continued to stare at him. His hair was thoroughly wrecked, which I didn’t remember doing. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes burned brighter than the pyrotechnics on stage. Basically, he looked how I felt. Like my insides had been replaced with gooey caramel and an adrenaline shot worth forty espressos.

Before I could even begin to contemplate the dozen implications of what the hell I was supposed to do after the best makeout session of my life, he gently turned me around. Right back to where we had been. The crowd still undulated to the sound of pounding drums and the shredding guitar as they yelled the lyrics. The band still raged out song after song. But I floated somewhere between heaven and earth.

How could he kiss me like that and act like nothing had happened? He might as well have doused me with gasoline and lit a match before holding me.

I shut my eyes for a moment. So many thoughts, so many emotions fought for control. But no. Not yet.

I opened my eyes and laid my arm across Hunter’s, which was back around my hips, and threaded our fingers together. His chest expanded behind my back as if he’d taken in a huge breath. We didn’t allow a molecule of space between us for the rest of the concert.

Once it was over, several moments passed before he finally stepped away from me, taking his arm, hand, and warmth with it. My chest squeezed tight, but I put a smile on my face when I turned to him. He’d already slipped his shirt back on.

“Wow, that was amazing, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said. His jaw and his thoughts were locked tight again, like buttoned-up Hunter. Except he couldn’t hide the storm raging behind his eyes.

No, no, no. I didn’t want to go back to that. I wanted to keep whatever magic had just happened.

But magic never lasted, right? Just look at Cinderella. Except instead of losing a beautiful dress and a stranger who happened to be a prince, I was losing a small pocket of myself and a man who made me feel things I didn’t think were possible—and he enjoyed it. And me. Even this side of me that I rarely let out. Damn it, why did it have to feel so good?

The car ride home was torture. The British voice of his GPS was the only sound in his rental car. I looked everywhere but at him and was strangely aware of my individual body parts. Like what the hell had I done with my hands before they’d roamed over him like they were on a treasure hunt? Nothing I did with my legs felt right. Crossed, open, joined at the knee.

I was in the middle of adjusting my hiked-up pants leg for the fourth time when he finally spoke.

“You okay?”

I snuck a glance at him, but he was eyeing the road like a rogue deer attack was imminent.

Hmm, was I okay? Well, I’d just gone to a rock concert where I’d proceeded to make out with a man I’d only known a few weeks who would be leaving in another few. Not to mention the lodge-selling crap. And now we were headed back to our small town where those problems awaited us.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened a bit. “I hope... I hope you don’t think...” The words seemed to be causing him physical pain.

I waited, my heart hammering in my throat.

He darted the briefest glance at me. “I don’t want things to be awkward.”

Oh. Disappointment made my heart take a swan dive. “Of-of course not.”

I focused my gaze forward, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand leave the steering wheel. I hoped it would find mine in my lap, but instead, he lifted it to rake through his hair. Deepening the furrows I’d dug. Then he flicked the windshield stick, and his misters and wipers cleaned his already-spotless windshield.

I wanted to say something, to tell him how amazing that kiss was and how happy the concert had made me. But the space that had vanished between us at the concert started filling up. Like those consequences and problems that I’d been worried about before had showed up, said “Hello, remember us?” and then settled themselves in.

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