Page 31 of Make You Mine

“Yeah.” My voice was nothing but breath. “But maybe one more time.”

“For practice?” He pulled back to whisper in my ear. “Is that what we’re doing?”

Practice.

God, what was I getting myself into?

I gave a slight nod, unable to speak, my throat tight with feelings I was too afraid to express or even acknowledge.

“For practice?” he repeated, his voice low and rumbly.

I nodded.

And then he was kissing me again, with a fervor that matched my own.

The night faced away, leaving only the sensation of his lips moving against mine, his tongue in my mouth, the heat of his hands on my body, and the rhythm of our breaths intertwined.

My hesitation, that fear of having my heart broken, faded away in the intensity of this moment that felt so right. All that mattered was this.

We finally pulled apart, our breathing ragged and hearts pounding. His hand lingered on my cheek in a gentle caress that sent shivers down my spine.

“Maybe we should stop,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine.

I bit my lip, the taste of his kiss still lingering. “Maybe.” My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Yeah, you’re right. I should probably go inside.”

In this instant, the fear of getting my heart broken again seemed a small price to pay for the chance to find out what could be, but he was right about stopping. It would be stupid to take this too far tonight.

“Goodnight, Piper.”

“’Night.”

“Get inside.” His voice was pained. “I’ll wait for you to lock up before I head home.”

True to his word, he waited as I fumbled in my purse for my keys, then went inside. I didn’t hear him walk away until my deadbolt slid into place.

By rote, I got ready for bed. Smog and Nimbus swirled around my feet until we were tucked beneath the covers.

But I couldn’t sleep. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying my night with Ren like a movie in my brain. Smog curled up beside me, while Nimbus settled on the pillow by my head, his purring a soothing, yet ineffective lullaby.

Thoughts of Ren, of the way he had kissed me, his touch, the way his body felt beneath my hands, swirled in my mind, battling the notion that this was all nothing but an illusion. It had felt so real.

Morning came sooner than expected, sunlight streaming through the curtains, and with it, that same stupid sense of hope that wouldn’t go away.

My phone pinged with an incoming text. My stomach sank when I realized it wasn’t Ren. It was Paige.

Paige: Rise and shine, sleepyhead. We’re on the way.

What the hell? I hadn’t made any plans with Paige. I rolled over, deciding to ignore her.

I was in an in-between period of my life—between jobs, between men, stuck somewhere between sadness and hope.

Damn it.

Sighing, I tossed the phone onto the bedside table and forced myself out of bed. The room was chilly, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I padded to the window. Drawing back the curtains, I let the sunlight bathe the room, hoping it might chase away the bleak shadows lurking in my brain.

I had no idea what Paige had planned. Part of me wanted to go back to bed and shut out the world, but another part—the part still clinging to that stupid sense of hope—convinced me that if I just tried to face the day with a smile, then maybe I’d see Ren later.

Smog meowed at me from his perch on the dresser while Nimbus sat in the corner, staring at the ceiling.

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