Page 37 of Where You Left Me

My stomach twists at her name. But I don’t want to think about her right now. Not tonight. For once in eight years, I want to separate the two and only think about Jones.

“We’re gonna have to find a way to disassociate her and you…and me,” I say. “At least this summer since we have to work together.”

“And after?” His brows lift.

I give a slight shake of my head. “I don’t know. But what I do know is…being back in Maple Ridge but not being with you is impossible.”

He uncrosses his ankles and pushes off the side of the truck. “Fuck, Mia. Being without you the last eight years has been fucking impossible.”

My eyes water without warning and my heart races. My craving for Jones is so intense at this moment I feel like I can’t breathe.

Jones chugs his beer before shuffling toward me cautiously. He sets his can down as he grips the counter on either side of me. He leans in closer, and I swallow all the words I want to say. The combination of the sweet scent of his familiar sweat, the engine oil, and the beer on his breath is so intoxicating, it makes my head spin and my entire body ache for him.

“Why’d you have to come back here?” he growls.

A tear slips from my eye, and it catches his attention. He swipes his thumb across my cheek, catching it, and brings it up to his mouth, sucking it off.

And holy fuck, why is that so hot?

His thumb is probably dirty and full of oil and who knows what else but still, my lady parts are panting for him.

“I had a good thing going. I was doing fine without you.”

“Yeah? So was I,” I say defiantly.

His jaw clenches as his gaze sweeps over my face. “Liar,” he mutters.

I glare. “It takes one to know one.”

“Why do you have to be even cuter when you’re being feisty?”

I open my mouth to fire back, but his response takes me off-guard, and I clamp it shut again.

He leans into me. “And why…after eight years…do you still have to be so damn beautiful?”

The firmness of his body presses into me and I nearly sigh in reply upon the physical contact. Except I’m not consoled, because I want more.

Ineedmore.

“And why after eight years do I still want you?”

His grayish-blue eyes narrow in answer but he takes me by surprise when he grips his hands around my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as he lifts me up and sets me down on the counter behind me. I suck in a breath and gaze into his eyes which must reflect the same desire he finds in mine.

Jones places his hands on my thighs and squeezes them while he shoves them open and steps in between, pressing into me until our chests are flush. I reach my arms around his back to brace myself from falling backward. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But then I clutch the hem of his shirt, and my fingertips explore his warm skin.

Jones takes my chin in between his fingers, and he tilts it up until we’re gazing into one another’s eyes.

“You want me, Peaches?” His voice rumbles in my core.

“Yes,” the word comes out in a whispered whoosh.

“You sure?”

I nod, probably too enthusiastically because I’m so turned on, I feel like I’m going to combust if he doesn’t make a move. But suddenly, my body stills as unease creeps in. Maybe hedoesn’t want me? Maybe these feelings are one-sided? Maybe he’s teasing me?

It would be cruel.

But after the way I treated him—I wouldn’t blame him.

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