Page 20 of Winter Break Up

“I’m not doing anything.”

One of those big hands lands on my hip so he can lean into me, and every cell in my body is on high alert. My nipples stiffen, my core clenches with anticipation.

“You wouldn’t stop looking at me. And I can’t stop looking at you. Listen, I just … I can’t not say anything anymore.”

Fear, desire, hope, and so many other things swirl around in my stomach. The effect has me dizzy, and I press forward, inching closer to Mercer to make sure I don’t miss anything he says. But he stays quiet, and suddenly, I’m in my own head. All the things I’ve wanted to tell him for years are jumping out at me, and the tequila in my system is betraying the silence I’ve sworn to keep.

“I … I should have told you years ago …” The words stick in my mouth like peanut butter, and suddenly my jaw stops working.

Mercer holds my gaze, the intensity notching up until I almost can’t stand it. He opens his mouth like he’s going to tell me to continue. Our bodies are nearly pressed together, the heat of his hand seeps past my jeans into my skin, and the attraction between us has reached def con levels. Nearly four years of not being able to express my true feelings for this man, and I’m crumbling.

Mercer’s eyes land on my lips, and I realize I’d press my mouth to his in a heartbeat. But some of the noise from the bar filters past my dulled senses, and suddenly, I realize we’re in plain view of a crowd of people. If this is going to happen, if the complicated nature of us is going to be addressed, I don’t need anyone else gossiping or weighing in.

Anxiety grips me by the throat, and scenarios flash through my mind. Mercer using me for a winter fling. Mercer fucking me only to one-up me for breaking up with him. Mercer pursuing me and then deciding we’re over once he goes back to school.

Air. I need air.

Whirling away from him, I make it to the closest exit door and keep walking. My feet and mind have no idea where they’re taking me; all I know is that I need to get away from my ex-boyfriend. Before I spill my guts or before he shoots me down.

Frigid air slams into my bones, but I barely notice it as I stalk across the uneven pavement.

My name is being shouted across the parking lot, and I’m so overheated from what almost happened that I don’t realize my coat is back in the bar. A hand snakes out and gently grasps my elbow, and then I’m slowly turned until I’m standing nearly chest to chest with Mercer.

He’s so damn tall, so damn handsome, so damn attentive to me. It’s bound to make me break.

“What were you about to say back there?”

The intensity of his voice has my stomach in knots and my heart whining with the need to express itself.

“It’s dumb, Mercer.” I sigh out of embarrassment and frustration.

Even with only one drink in me, the alcohol is loosening my tongue, and I can’t keep a hold on myself if he keeps getting me alone and looking at me the way he does.

“And yet I still want to hear it.” That big hand slides down until it holds my wrist and he’s drawing circles on my palm.

The tingles it leaves race up my arm, down my spine, and pool low in my core. I have to actively try not to thrust my hips the tiniest bit because all they want is to seek the promise in that one motion of his hand.

“I was going to say that …” I’ve lost the battle—the words are already coming out. “I was trying not to tell you that breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life. That if I’d just had a little more faith, I wouldn’t have so many regrets.”

Aquamarine eyes flash into mine, the shock and fury combining until I can’t pick his emotions apart. Mercer radiates an energy that borders on aggressive, and his big body walks mine backward until I can’t go anywhere. Until my back is pressed against the brick wall outside of the bar.

Those thick, blunt-tipped fingers slip under my chin until I’m forced to look up at him.

“I’ve thought about kissing you for three and a half years. There are nights I dream so vividly about you being in my bed that I wake up and almost think it was real. Sometimes, it’s like I see glimpses of you and try to chase you down, but it’s always someone else. I’ve wondered endlessly what life would be like if you never left me. If I got to hold on to you, would we be getting ready to live in the real world together?”

Mercer isn’t letting any morsel of truth go unsaid. He’s throwing it all out there, placing it down like a gauntlet. All these words we’ve avoided, the honesty I’ve tried to avoid, it’s between us now, and I’m reeling from it.

This conversation, our proximity, seems so surreal that I almost want to pinch myself to make sure it’s real. Mercer’s one hand is still on my jaw, sliding up to palm my cheek, while his other wraps around my waist. My arms snake around his neck of their own volition, and my inner schoolgirl is squeeing that I’m back in his arms.

His lean into me is slow and deliberate. It leaves my heart beating wildly where he presses those fingers to my pulse, and my knees practically shake with anticipation. The minty smell of his toothpaste mixes with the sharpness of the whiskey he was drinking, and I know I’m about to get a taste of danger when our mouths meet.

The first slide of his lips over mine is a reckoning, bringing everything crashing down on my head as we kiss for the first time in three and a half years. Passion and missed time are interwoven in every testing taste of our mouths, and my eyes flutter shut with how perfect this is.

My God, this man knows how to kiss. He always has. It’s like he’s reading my mind and body before I even know what I want. Curving his lips, tilting his head, stroking our tongues together. With just the right amount of pressure and variation, his mouth keys my body up, and I quiver without thinking. A moan escapes my throat and echoes in his. Mercer reciprocates with a growl, the vibration of it making my thighs clench.

Hands in hair, bodies grinding against one another, the make out speeds up until I’m nearly panting. I’m ready for more; my hands are on his zipper, even if we’re in full view in this public parking lot, and then—

He stops me. His hands pull mine away. Our mouths disconnect. My heart slams into my chest, and I’m shell-shocked by how quickly he stomps on the brakes.

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