Page 77 of Suits and Spark Plugs

“I did not say that,” I defended.

“You signed it ‘Liv Phelps.’ Don’t think I didn’t understand exactly what that meant.”

His eyes took on a faraway look, and he reached out a hand to take one of my curls, much like I’d seen him do all those years ago in high school. His touch was soft as he wove it around his finger. I hated when people wanted to touch my hair, but his touch was exciting in a way I’d never experienced. His focus stayed on whatever it was he was doing with my hair as he said, “It took me another couple of days to decide how to handle that. As far as I could figure, there were only two options, and you’d like neither of them.”

“What were the two options?” I asked as shivers started on the top of my head.

“I was going to yell at you, which I knew you really wouldn’t like, or...” he seemed to falter as he looked down at me, eyes focusing on mine.

“Or?” I asked.

Rather than say anything, his other hand came to my chin, pressing softly under it until my head fell back even further, and my pulse leapt. He put that hand around the back of my neck and tugged my face to his, pressing his lips softly to mine.

The shock of it felt like diving head first into straight up lava. White hot electricity scorched me from where our lips pressed, down to the soles of my feet. Hands that had started to raise between us now grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. I made a soft sound in the back of my throat, and he let go of my hair and chin, using his two callused thumbs, rough from his work, to stroke down the soft skin on the sides of my neck.

My heartbeat increased, and I pushed to my tiptoes, wanting more contact. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. Swirls of color, white hot and then red, zinged around behind my closed eyes when he deepened the kiss. My hands left his shirt to tangle in his hair, and I was gratified to find it as silky as I’d thought it would be. Yellows and bright, brilliant greens sparked behind my eyes when his arms gathered me in, the palms of his hands pressed against my back to bring me flush with his body. He was so warm, and solid, and every particle of me wanted this moment. I was going to paint all of it, in swirls and curling patterns that had no beginning or end. This was chemistry and attraction in one hurtling mass of color.

“Livy,” he whispered as his lips left mine, allowing both of us to take a deep breath before returning to the kiss. I didn’t hate the nickname. I wanted to be Livy to him.

Something new and thrilling heated the air around us. Something I’d never felt before, with anyone, not even in my imagination. I wanted more. I craved the things he was making me feel. His hand came up to my head again, threading through my curls and making me want to arch like a cat under his attentions.

When he ended the kiss and slowly eased me back down to my flat feet, I knew I was in a world of trouble. His fingertips coasted down my back, and before I wanted him to he broke contact. I kept my eyes closed as he stepped away. The air around us felt charged and heavy with promise.

“Livy?” he said in a barely audible voice. I opened my eyes and met his questioning look. I watched him steadily, unsure of what to say. “Should I apologize?” he asked. “Because I wouldn’t mean it.”

My mouth pulled up at the corners. “No.”

“Good.” His smile was as warm as his eyes, and I was a little pleased to see the heartbeat in his neck beating as hard as mine was. “That was...” He didn’t seem to have words to express what had happened, and I was grateful that he didn’t try. His eyes darted around the room for a split second before returning to my face. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being surprised by you.” His hands reached for me and pulled me into an embrace. My arms wrapped around his waist as I gladly melted against him. “I wish I could sign you up for art school and drive you myself. I would love watching your dreams come true.”

It was a sweet thought but one that had no basis in reality. “That dream will have to wait for a while. It’s not part of my current life plan.”

“Is there room for flexibility in the plan?” he asked and I shook my head. “I see.”

He started tracing lazy circles on my back, and I leaned my head to the side to rest more fully against his shoulder. It felt wonderful to be cuddled and caressed. Peaceful, even.

“Do you miss Blaine?” he asked. Another curve ball, and an unwelcome one at that.

“I feel like a terrible person for admitting this, but I don’t miss him as much as I thought I would.”

He made a noise and resumed his lovely back scratching. “Why did you date him anyway? You two seemed so different from each other. Too different.”

“Because he asked.”

“That’s it? It was as simple as that?” I nodded against him. “Then I’m asking you now. Can we please be friends again?”

“Friends?” The word poured buckets of ice on my butterflies and caused me to stiffen in his embrace. I was terribly glad he couldn’t see my face as I worked through the new rush of emotion. “Um, friends, yes, for sure.”

I released my hold on him and wiggled out of his embrace. I tucked a few stray curls behind my ears with nerveless fingers and stared at his chin blankly for a moment, registering that this was the Connor I’d long expected to show up. Connor, whose charm and good looks had roped me right in like a total sucker. There was no way I was the first girl to get a kiss from him as part of an apology.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Oh, totally.” I bit my lip and slid around him, walking toward my door to put some much-needed space between us while I willed my heart to slump back into its regular pattern.

Friends. We were going to be friends. It didn’t matter that his kiss had ignited a firestorm of response inside of me. We were buddies, pals, muchachos.

“I’m great.” I smiled across the room at him. “I’m glad you came over and we could clear the air.”

“You sure you won’t reconsider taking your money back and cleaning the shop again?” he asked.

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