Page 55 of The Followers

He didn’t take his eyes off her lips. “I’m feeling sort of torn.”

“Torn?”

He nodded. “Between what I want to do, and what I should do.”

“What should you do?” she asked, breathless.

He exhaled, long and slow. “Go for a run.”

“What you want to do, then?”

“Kiss you.”

His eyes, still locked on her mouth, turned intense. An intensity she hadn’t seen before in him. She had seen him joking and teasing, she had seen him challenging, she had seen him looking vulnerable and regretful when he talked about his brother on their picnic—but she hadn’t seen him like this. This was a new expression. Intense. Focused.

“Do it,” she whispered.

Without hesitation, his lips met hers. The kiss started out gentle, careful, and at first that was enough. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on hers, the soft rasp of his almost-beard against her chin and lips. But soon it wasn’t enough, that gentle pressure, and she leaned in further. His hands, which had been on either side of the counter, moved to her waist, to the small of her back.

And then the kiss turned rougher, deeper, as he pressed her against the counter. His hands ran up her ribs, down to her butt, and through her hair. She slid her palms along his back, tracing the cords of muscle along his spine, feeling them flex and roll under her fingers. This was the kind of kissing they had done on the mountaintop, hot breaths and tangled limbs and aching need. The kind of kissing that had made her expect so much more to happen that night and had left her frustrated and off-balance when it didn’t.

She pulled away enough to say, “I’m still kind of confused.”

He blinked, dazed. “I thought that kiss would clear things up.”

“You’ve been giving me mixed signals, Jeremiah.”

His face was inches away, his body pressed against hers. His eyes started dancing, crinkling at the edges. “Okay. Let me see... how can I make this clear?”

He brushed his lips below her jaw, lingering until goosebumps traveled across her chest and down her arms.

“Liv, I like you.” He kissed her shoulder, lifted her wrist to kiss the soft skin at the curve of her elbow, the palm of her hand, her fingertips. “I want you.”

Then he dipped his head and gently, so gently, placed a kiss in the hollow between her clavicles. She sucked in a breath as she realized what was happening.

He was asking her permission.

Since the day they’d met, he had teased and irritated her. He had ruptured her bubble of solitude without appearing to even notice it existed. But he had noticed. He understood that she lived as a country of one, as an island with no neighbors, simply vast, unending sea.

And now he was asking to cross the border.

When he lifted his eyes to hers, they held the look of challenge she had seen so many times before. I dare you, that look said.

She reached for the bottom of her top, took a deep breath, and pulled it over her head. Now she stood in front of him in just her sports bra and running shorts. In a flash of embarrassment, she realized this wasn’t a terribly sexy look; as seductions go, she wasn’t acing this one. But his eyes were glazed over, hazy with wanting. He wanted her, and that made her bold.

She lifted her chin and tried to channel the I dare you look back to him. It must have worked, because he cocked an eyebrow, then pulled his own shirt over his head.

Before his shirt even hit the floor, his lips were on hers, pushing her back against the counter. She met his kisses with her own, surprised at her own intensity, wanting the taste of him, wanting to replace all other thoughts and feelings with Jeremiah’s lips, Jeremiah’s arms and shoulders, Jeremiah’s hand now running up the back of her thigh, pulling her leg against him.

She ran her own hands down his chest, lean muscle with a sprinkle of golden-brown hair. At his waist, she tucked her thumbs inside the waistband of his shorts, walking him away from the small kitchen and into the living room.

“So,” he said, his mouth at her ear. “Are we doing this?”

She leaned back far enough to see his expression, the laughter in his eyes taunting her again. “Can you keep up?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me.”

And then his lips were on hers again, this time with so much force she bent backward at the waist. He was pushing her down, toward the floor, his hands spread wide on her back.

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