Page 2 of Kisses and Paperclips

I didn’t.

That unraveled everything. Whatever thread had been holding his composure together? Gone and snapped clean, like it had never stood a chance.

He touched the back of my neck, his fingers weaving through my baby hairs; warm, steady, like this was real. This was not just playing along anymore; he was taking control. My knees wobbled, and I had the mortifying realization that if he let go, I’d end up flat on my ass.

The kiss deepened.

Slow.

Controlled in a way that made me hyperaware of every nerve in my body. He kissed as if introducing me to an entire universe of something still hidden beneath the surface. For a moment, I could not remember my reason for doing this. This was fire.

I forgot about the creep. Forgot we were on a public sidewalk. Hell, I forgot my damn name. Pulling away, breathless and unsteady, I found him staring, as if I were an unexpected puzzle he was determined to solve.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “That’s one way to say hello.”

I didn’t respond immediately, mostly because my brain had momentarily checked out. Instead, I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to look like a person who had not just lost herself in a stranger’s lips. His smirk, the kind that could single-handedly melt a woman’s panties, was not helping.

“You good?” he asked, his voice dipping just enough to make me forget how words worked.

I nodded, despite not being entirely sure that was the truth.

Then, as if reality had been waiting for the perfect moment to kick me in the ribs, I saw him. The creep, he was still there, lingering and watching.

Still too entertained by the little Broadway production we had just put on for him.

The stranger, my stranger, followed my gaze, and his entire demeanor shifted. The easygoing, nonchalant smoothness? Gone. In its place, a different kind of energy, a quiet, razor-sharp protectiveness that sent a shiver down my spine.

He turned his body slightly, positioning himself between me and the man still lurking in the distance.

“We got a problem?” His voice, now lower, demanded answers.

Then—because apparently, fate was committed to making sure I never knew peace—he handed me a bouquet of flowers I hadn’t even realized he was holding. Like this was the most natural sequence of events in the world. Step one: Kiss a stranger. Step two: Accept flowers. Step three: Prepare for potential violence. What the hell did I just get myself into?

I barely had time to react before he gently moved me behind him. Not in a stay-in-your-place way, more of an I got this way.

He opened his jacket, showing the stranger something, and his eyes widened in recognition.

The stare-off between him and the stranger had me on edge, realizing that I’d just involved a stranger in what could be a dangerous situation for both of us. The creep’s gaze flicked briefly on me, and I wondered if he had a piece on him too and debated whether I was worth the trouble, but the stranger used his big body as a shield to block his view. That’s when ice ran through my veins when I heard the click of the safety. I know he was warning him, but honestly, I didn’t know either of these guys, and it wasn’t on my list of things to end up in a shoot-out. I only wanted to grab dinner after work, but now I’ve gotten into this mess. My hands trembled as I fisted his jacket and moved closer to him as my temporary shield.

“Nah, man, we good,” he said, hands up in surrender. “Didn’t realize, my fault.” I let out a long breath and felt the knot in my stomach unravel. The man with the flowers hasn’t moved, though. He let me steady myself while I held his jacket like a lifeline. It wasn’t until he felt me let go that he turned around.

“It’s alright?” His voice was soft, low—like velvet brushing against my frayed nerves. “You’re alright.”

I released a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding—not just because of what he said, but because of the way he said it.

Gentle, yet grounding.

Certain words possess the power to comfort you without physical touch. Danger turns into white noise when you’ve lived with it long enough, a guitar string pulled so tight you forget it’s on the verge of snapping. You get used to constantly calculating your next move, playing a game you didn’t sign up for, and trying to stay two steps ahead of the chaos.

But in the stillness, something shifted. My nerves finally stopped doing their fast rhythm, and my heart decided to slow dance instead. I can hear myself think, and that’s when I finally looked at him.

Before, it was all adrenaline and instinct. Now, it’s impossible to miss how his presence takes up space like it was designed to. He is a walking distraction, and I already felt my focus slipping. Damn it.

He was so gorgeous that it made a woman question every good decision. His skin was rich and smooth, like polished mahogany. It caught the dying light of the sun, and each gleam deliberated as if nature itself conspired to highlight him. His Caesar cut was razor-sharp, and the waves rippled precisely like an endless, dark ocean, tempting you to reach out and trace them with your fingers.

My eyes fell on the suit. Perfectly tailored, it went beyond fitting; it defined and highlighted his strong shoulders and hinted at a physique that didn’t just wear clothes but dominated them. His eyes are what drew me to him. They were warm brown but had depth as they saw right through me. They took their time, not pressing. They were steady and patient, waiting for me to catch up.

The moment stretched, and I knew I should say something, but my brain went blank for too long. “Yeah,” I managed, my voice shaken. “Sorry about that.”

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