Page 31 of P.S. I Miss You

“You’re an ass.” I rise, shaking my head. Not at him. At myself. I should’ve known better. I should have gone with my gut.

Sure. His kisses were fire and the way he touched me ignited my body in ways I hadn’t ever expected, but I should’ve stopped before I took it too far.

I’m an idiot.

It’s official.

“I wasn’t going to make a thing out of this but I feel like since we live together, we should probably address what happened. Or at the very least, act like adults and accept that it happened.”

“All right. It happened. What’s there to talk about?”

I shrug. “Nothing. I guess. Or maybe that it’s never going to happen again.”

Sutter smirks.

“I’m being serious,” I say.

“I know you are. That’s why this is so goddamn hilarious.”

“If I’d have known you were going to be such an asshole about it, it never would’ve happened in the first place,” I tell him. I don’t understand men. How they can be so hot and cold and have the audacity to say we are the hot and cold ones.

Pretty sure Sutter takes the cake on cold and heartless assholes.

“I’m done with this conversation.” I head up to my room and get Murphy to let him out. I’m crouched down at his kennel a minute later, working on the latch, when my bedroom door swings open.

I turn around to find Sutter standing in my doorway.

“You can’t just barge in here,” I rise, arms folded and heart hammering. I can’t breathe, the way he looks at me like he’s a lion and I’m a mouse and I have no chance in hell of getting away because he wants me.

“I feel like the only reason you wanted to talk about what happened was because you do want it to happen again,” he says.

“You’re delusional.”

And maybe the tiniest bit right …

“So fine, Melrose. Let’s talk about it.” Hands in his pockets, he steps closer to me, shoulders shrugging as his lips toy with a smile. “You had fun, right?”

The word is stuck in my throat for a moment, but I clear it away. “Yes.”

“Me too.”

“You think I’m really fucking hot, right?”

I nod.

“Likewise,” he says. “But you can’t stand me.”

“Exactly.”

Somehow I find myself backed up against the wall, Sutter standing so close the woodsy, intoxicating remnants of his aftershave invade my lungs.

“So what should we do about this?” he asks. I swallow the lump in my throat as his fingers slip beneath my chin, positioning my mouth so it aligns perfectly with his.

The heat between my thighs intensifies, and I struggle to breathe, choked with anticipation. Scenes from last night play in my mind, flashes and snippets, his skin against mine, his cock sliding deeper and deeper inside me.

Sutter lowers his mouth to mine, our lips barely grazing.

Tease.

“I need to get ready for my audition,” I manage to say in the microseconds leading up to what would’ve been a mind-blowing kiss.

The space between us widens, but not by much, and the sensation of his fingertips grazing against my hips, sends a spray of goosebumps down my arms.

“That’s too bad,” he says, voice low in his throat.

Our eyes hold.

“Good luck with your audition,” he says.

And then he’s gone.

THE FRONT DOOR OPENS and slams, and just like that Melrose is off to her audition with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. And here I am, reveling in the lingering taste of her sweetness on my tongue.

She’s going to be my ruin.

Ever since Pandora’s box was opened, it’s like I have zero self-control – a first for me.

Still, her innate, irresistible sexiness aside, we can’t let this continue. She’s fire and I’m gasoline and where there’s sparks there’ll inevitably be a fire, and nothing good ever comes from those kinds of infernos.

We need boundaries and distance before both of us do something stupid, something we’ll regret.

The sound of her car backing out of the driveway is followed by a text alert on my phone. Half of me expects it to be her … maybe a series of question marks or, I don’t know, a thank you for my sexual olive branch?

But it’s my kid brother.

TUCKER: Dad’s hammered again. Throwing things. Breaking things. Fighting with Rhonda.

Dragging my hands through my hair, I release a hard breath before replying.

ME: Pack some clothes. I’ll be there in an hour.

I’ve had to witness enough of his rages and outbursts growing up. Maybe I was a smart-mouthed little shit as a kid, but Tucker’s a goddamn saint and he doesn’t deserve that.

July can’t come soon enough.

My lease is up here in June and then I’m going to look for a place for the two of us. Give him the life he deserves.

I’m dedicating my life to Tucker because after all, not only is he my brother and the only person in this world I give two shits about, it’s my fault he’s deaf.

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