Page 50 of 28 Dates

The bell dings and the doors open. She curls into me, and I get her to her door, her keys to the apartment already in my hand. I go to unlock the door when her small hand covers mine.

She’s removed her glove in the elevator, and the soft, warm flesh of her hand on mine is almost too much to bear.

God. She’s torturing me without even realizing it.

“Wait,” she says, and I peer down at her. She’s propped against the wall, head back. “I really mean it when I say you’re the best. I’m lucky I have great guys in my life. I know all aren’t as good as you.”

Shit. Her face twists with the pain, and I resist the urge to flinch. I’ve lied to her enough over the last couple of weeks, and I can’t do it with this.

“You should know, Trey told me. About how you met.” Her sleepy eyes pop open, and I grin, tapping her on the nose to keep this topic from getting too heavy. Any more thinking about that prick, and my fist is liable to end up in the wall. “Left out something important about how you met Trey and Corbin, didn’t you?”

She swats at my hand, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

And yet, she’s the one who brought it up tonight. I rest my shoulder against the wall and brush hair off her cheek. “Is that why you don’t like relationships?”

“God, Jonas. I’m too drunk for this.” Her eyes close, and she rubs them with her fists. She’s probably right and I’m about to apologize, open her door, and send her on safely, when she groans. “I don’t know. Maybe but not entirely. My parents sucked. I was raised a loner, I guess. I’ve never had a lot of friends.” She shrugs, and she’s so drunk she almost topples over from the slight motion.

“You’re a mess,” I tell her, unlocking her door.

“Trust me,” she groans again. “I know.”

“Hey.” I hold out my arm, and she walks into it, collapsing against my chest, and I pull her to me, wrapping my arms tight around her. “I just meant you’re drunk. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, I am a mess. I mean, who grows up feeling like they don’t need anyone?” She brings up her hand and jabs her index finger against her temple. “Me, that’s who.”

I squeeze her tighter. The things I want to say to her. The things I want to prove to her. The list is too numerous to count, but she’s anything but messed up. Scared maybe. Uncertain of what it’s like to fully trust someone or love them the way she deserves, but she’s not a mess.

She nods against my chest and mumbles something I can’t understand since her face is smashed to my coat. I lean back, brushing hair off her face. “What was that?”

Her lips pull to one side, and then she nibbles on her bottom lip. “I asked if you wanted to come in.”

Fucking hell. She’s killing me. My hands are at the sides of her face. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m notthatdrunk.”

If I wanted to be any other guy for her, hell, even how we used to be, the answer would be so easy. My dick already thinks the answer is obvious. I’m hard as a rock just from hugging her and getting to hold her for the first time in so long.

“I can’t, Caitlin.”

She blinks and looks away, frowning. “I figured. Of course you don’t.”

“Hey.” I pull her back and bend down so I’m close to her. So damn close I could easily press my lips against her, slide my tongue into her mouth, feel her small but strong fingers dig into my hips. Visions and ideas of what I want to do to her body flash in my mind so quickly I groan. “I can’t go inside with you, honey. I don’t want to go back to what we used to have. You mean too much to me.”

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, any hope or emotion is gone. “I understand.”

She doesn’t. Caitlin can’t have any clue of what she means to me or what I want from her, and the time for this conversation isnotwhen she can barely stand. But soon, very soon, because there’s no way I can continue this charade for much longer—especially if it means seeing her prance into Dirty’s with more guys.

Before I know it, she’s on her tiptoes, and her lips brush against mine. I inhale the sweet scent of her perfume, and it’s impossible to deny her.

My hands yank her to me and I step backward, pulling her into her apartment. The door slams closed behind us, and her back is against it. She’s already rolling her hips, and I’m swallowing her groans as she takes mine, accepting my tongue that I slide against her lips.

And fucking hell in a handbasket. She’s fire and ice and even drunk she’s still the best damn kisser. It’s the kind of kiss that boils my blood and shoots desire straight down my spine.

I pull back, breathless. “We can’t,” I say, although I’m gasping and my hips have her pinned to the door. “I can’t do this with you, Caitlin. Not like this.”

With secrets and uncertainties.

I press my head against her forehead even as her hands slide to my waist. “I miss it,” she says, and it’s so sweet, so sad and faint, I want to fall to my knees and explain everything, carry her to bed, and make it all better.

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