Page 52 of True North

I shove the old girl into drive and make for the curb where Lou stands. She watches the traffic drive past before hugging her bag to herself. Her light hair blows around her shoulders. The summer dress she is wearin’ ends only shy of her knees, giving the perfect view of her long, slender legs. The curve of her hips. Those breasts that have kept my mind occupied late at night for over a decade.

I kill the engine and return to stand in front of her the way we were before the interruption.

“Which part we up to?” I whisper.

She presses a hand to my shirt over my heart, her eyes studying the rise and fall of it over my chest. This close, she infiltrates every sense. Her skin under my touch, her fragrant cinnamon-and-vanilla scent flings memories back to the surface like something smashed me wide open. Broken parts and all.

“The part where I tell you how the things I want don’t line up. Or at least, they didn’t before. I don’t even know what does anymore or what will.”

No, no. This indecisive bit is getting old.

“So which part doesn’t fit with this?” I wave a hand between us.

She opens her mouth to respond, only to close it a second later. Her eyes tighten.

“I-I can’t think straight when I’m around you.” She pushes out of my hold and walks down the sidewalk.

Feelin’s mutual, darlin’.

But that’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?

That’s how you know it’s real.

“Louisa May Masters, stop walkin’ away from me. I swear to god.”

I catch up to her and grab her wrist. She stops, her fiery stare burning into me. I take the other wrist and step forward. She steps back. I move forward, sending her back until she meets the oversized window of the craft and gift store. I pin her to the glass, both wrists by her hips, my knee between her legs.

I’m done with this cat n’ mouse.

“Stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong, Lou. Get outta that head of yours and for once listen to your heart.”

My breaths plunge and rise in choppy waves. I press my body to hers. She whispers my name, and it takes every inch of self-control I have not to implode right here and now.

“I don’t know,” she chokes, looking off into the distance.

“Don’t know what?”

“Where I belong! Or what direction I’m supposed to take.”

Hell’s hounds. My heart aches for her.

“Look at me, Louisa.” I palm her face, letting my thumb drift over her bottom lip. We are so close, our breath mingles, her small pants crashing into my heady, burning ones.

She sucks in a ragged gulp, and her green eyes swing back.

“Right here”—I point to my chest—“this is where you belong. You need a direction, then I’m your true north. Trust that.”

Her breath stops.

I dip my head, brushing my lips over hers. “That’s all you need to know.”

God, how long have I waited to kiss this woman? Too fuckin’ long. My body is electric with her in my hold. My cock hard as stone, I’m burning for her. Her effect on me will never waiver.

“Say somethin’,” I breathe.

Tears well in her eyes.

Dammit.

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