Page 38 of Where You Left Me

“I mean…unless you don’t want me. If you don’t want?—”

Jones rests his finger on my lips, interrupting me. “Have you honestly ever had to worry about that? Have you ever questioned if I want you?”

I hunch a shoulder, suddenly not really sure about anything.

“Peaches, I have wanted you every day since I was sixteen.”

And that is the tipping point.

No questioning, no being unsure. My heart swells in my chest and all that was ever between me, and Jones returns tenfold. All the feelings, intensity, lust, love, and everything in between rushes at me all at once. He is it for me. There is no one else.

Jones lifts my chin and lowers his lips, and he doesn’t even need to guide me, I draw nearer willingly and eagerly. When his mouth finally crashes against mine, all the feelings in my body splinter, giving me a sense of deliverance and solace in one single kiss. As he deepens it, parting my lips with his tongue, I moan in response.

Kissing Jones is like waking me up from a deep sleep I had no idea I was even in. The realization sets in and sends all kinds of emotions whirling throughout my body. All along I’d assumed Aster was my missing half, but at this moment, I know that isn’t true. It was Jones.

Jones is comfort.

Jones is home.

Jones is life.

He pushes my shirt off my shoulder and presses a kiss on my exposed skin. “Fuck, I missed you,” he mumbles in admittance.

My hands go into his hair, and he pants harder.

He grips my ass and tugs me to the edge of the counter and peers down at me. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes,” I answer quickly, because so help me, we are doing this. I’m too turned on to quit now.

“What about Bikes and Beers?”

I try to put my craving on hold and clear my head to think about how having sex could affect us working together this summer and planning Bikes and Beers. “We’ll have to figure out how to separate the two.”

“Gotta be honest here, separating you fromanythingfeels impossible.” He exhales a light chuckle.

It sounds a little like a confession and it feels true.

But I can’t risk letting anything get in the way of one of the main reasons I came home for the summer.

“Well, we have to. This event means a lot to my dad.”

“It means a lot to me, too,” he responds, a slight edge in his tone, and rearing his head back.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know,” he bites out, pushing off the counter and putting distance between us that causes an instant chill to run down my back. “Because you haven’t been here.”

And there it is. The reminder again that I left.

“You’re right,” I mutter, owning it.

He’s not wrong. I haven’t been here since he and Dad have been planning Bikes and Beers together.

Jones spins around, putting his back to me, and pushes his hand through his hair.

I hop off the counter, my heart hammering in my chest. His rejection is worse than painful. It’s torturous. It’s suffocating. And I realize in this moment, I’ve never felt this before.

Stepping up behind him, I take the risk and wrap my arms around him. At first, I can feel him stiffen. My throat tightens. But I don’t let him go. I hold my palms against his firm chestwhich does nothing to ease the desire that’s been building since he set me on that counter.

---