Page 64 of A Class of Her Own

“You thought I was nice.”

“Stop repeating everything I said, and go home.”

He took a step closer to me, and I stepped back. “You know, Meredith, you’re right. There are other, friendlier women I could spend time with.”

A sharp pain my chest had me gasping. “That was rude.”

He lifted one shoulder. “Only repeating what you said. And, sure, maybe there are women who would have wanted to do all the runs together.” He took another step toward me, and I backed up, feeling the kitchen wall press against my back. A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he took another step until we were close enough that he was in my personal space. It was like I’d stepped into a sauna. “But I find I’m a lot more interested in unpredictable, grumpy, secretly kind-hearted, intelligent women.” He closed the space until our toes touched, and I could swear we were breathing the same air. “To get real specific, I’m sort of a little preoccupied with one in particular.”

“She sounds like a lot of work,” I murmured as I courageously tilted my head back to meet his eyes.

He smiled and raised one hand to toy with a lock of my hair. “She can be.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth against my ear. The feel of his breath against my skin, his beard tickling my earlobe, made my eyes close, and I pressed my palms to the wall on either side of me to avoid reaching for him. “I think she’s worth the effort.” He bent further, placing a feather light kiss below my ear. My toes curled in my shoes and a shaky breath escaped. “I was hoping maybe she’d be willing to let her walls down a little with me.”

I swallowed hard and only managed a whispered response. “Why?”

His nose rubbed along my jaw line until his lips were directly in front of mine. “Because I have never found anyone more . . .”

“Frustrating, annoying, difficult?” I supplied shakily.

His answering laugh was low, and I felt the vibrations of it in my chest. “Intriguing, vibrant, strong.”

My hands moved to his chest, and I opened my eyes to find his eyes right above mine. I shook my head as uncharacteristic tears gathered. “What if you’re wrong?”’

He moved his head back and forth, leaning forward so that his lips moved side to side against mine in a weightless caress that had me fisting his shirt in my hands. “I’m not,” he said.

I ached with the need to hear more while also fighting the vulnerability of this moment as he reached around me, pressing warm palms to my lower back, and gathered me close. His mouth took mine fully, and I closed my eyes. I held on tightly as he kissed me over and over, coaxing me to relax and be open to this. My hands slowly released his shirt and skated over his shoulders until I was standing on my toes, arms wrapped around him. The last of the space between us was gone, and a satisfied sound rumbled in his chest as his arms more fully tightened.

I was lost in him. The scent, the sound of his breathing, the feel of his broad shoulders and strong arms, the way his beard grazed my chin and his mustache tickled at my nose. The flannel of his shirt was soft against my palms as I slid them along his shoulders and then up his neck to delve into that curly, riotous hair that I’d secretly longed to touch. My fingertips scraped against his scalp, and he sucked in a deep breath, breaking the kiss and looking at me almost accusatorily.

He bent down, swinging me into his arms, and moved us to my couch, where he sat with me on his lap. I moved to start kissing again, but he tucked my head against his shoulder and wrapped me tight in his arms.

“Let’s hold on a second here,” he said with a rasp.

I shook my head and nudged up under his chin, pressing a kiss to his throat. The force of my reaction to him was startling and fierce, like a wave I had no control over. I didn’t want to stop, ever. His hands tightened on my waist as I maneuvered around to look into his eyes. The dark chocolate was molten, and the tension in his body spoke volumes as I leaned in closer. His eyes closed right as I got to his mouth, and, with a tiny zing of victory, I picked up where he’d left off, grabbing his shoulders and showering his mouth with all the myriad of emotions I’d felt for him over the months. The kiss was angry, passionate, and tender, and my entire body seemed to be lighting from the inside.

I tugged off my hat, feeling like a chimney as heat climbed, and Brooks moaned once before pulling his mouth from mine. I shook my head, but he deposited me on a separate cushion and slid to the arm of the couch. He pushed out a big breath and ran his hands through his hair before looking over at me.

“I, um . . .” he shook his head. “Wow.”

I celebrated a little, you know, cause he said ‘wow,’ as I ran my hands through my own hair. “Yeah.”

“I . . . wasn’t planning on this.” He gestured between us, and I noticed his hand was shaking.

I was shaking, too, filled with more emotion than I really knew how to handle. “I know.”

“Is it, are you okay? That was not normal for a first kiss, in my experience.”

I swallowed, coming down off the high and feeling a little unsure about what, exactly, had happened. All I knew was that Brooks had just kissed me and lit a fire that had no business burning like that, and he was totally right that the experience was not normal. I bit my lips, tasting him on them still, and looked at him. He nodded, accepting my inability to say anything as my mind whirled. He stood, tugging his shirt into place.

“I really should go.” His expression was serious, his voice raw.

I stood, too, walking with him to the kitchen where he gathered his coat and hat and then to the front door where we paused for a moment. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but for my part I was still soaring beyond what my logical mind could grasp.

“Sorry I lost my patience earlier,” I said at last.

“Being around you is a little like playing with fire,” he replied as his fingertips made a trail down my arm.

“You afraid you’ll get burned?” I asked, teasingly.

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