Page 30 of Fast Lane

I smirk. “Classical.”

Her eyes go large. “Classical?”

“Yep.” I nod my head. “Like Mozart and Beethoven and shit like that.”

Kosi bursts out laughing. “Shit like that.” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m sorry but I’m pretty sure that phrase has never been used with those two names before. I do appreciate classical music but it’s not my go to.”

“I’m learning that.”

Her head falls to the side as she studies me. Stray strands of her hair escape the messy bun on top of her head. “Did you really think I was that uptight?”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I take a step forward. “I did. Clearly, I had it all wrong but you were intense from the moment I met you.”

“I was laser focused. There’s a difference. You don’t take anything seriously,” she tells me.

Oh boy, is she wrong. She just doesn’t know it yet. “Is that so?” I ask. She nods her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “And you, sweetheart, take everything so seriously.”

Kosi sighs. “I do. I always have. The weight of the world and all that, I guess. From the moment my brothers left the family business I felt like I couldn’t let my dad down.”

Bad Company comes on and it feels like the entire mood shifts. There’s barely one step between us. For the first time in probably ever I feel like I can understand why Kosi has always been so serious. Something tells me she was never allowed to be her own person. Too many expectations were placed on her too soon. She felt like she had to compensate for her brothers’ decisions and by doing so she’s given up some of herself. Without realizing it, I’ve taken the step, eliminating the space. Our bodies are touching with every breath we draw in. She looks up at me. No need to slip a finger under her chin and give her the push, she does it on her own. Her cobalt blue eyes lock onto mine. I lean in without making the actual decision. Her mouth, centimeters from mine. Kosi rises up to her tiptoes to meet me, our lips brush.

A banging on the door shatters the moment. I drop my head back in frustration. Closing my eyes I take a few deep breaths to calm the heat within me. However, when I open them Kosi is already at the door, paying for the food. “I was going to get that,” I tell her.

She gives me a small smile. “I know but you’re already helping me with the painting. The least I can do is pay for the food. Besides, you did get it delivered out here.”

As she’s making her way towards me she steps on one of the paint can lids. “Ow!” she exclaims. Before I have time to register it I’m across the room, taking the food and placing it on the counter before bending down to make sure she didn’t cut her foot. However, it’s covered in paint, so I pull my muscle shirt over my head and wipe the bottom of her foot. A startled gasp comes from Kosi. Once I’m sure her foot is okay, I stand up. The heat floods the room once again. “You ruined your shirt.”

“I needed to make sure your foot wasn’t cut or anything. You should have shoes on,” I tell her.

She looks away. “I didn’t want to get paint on them. I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“I’m not,” I admit. I just don’t add that I’ll go shirtless anytime if it causes her eyes to look at me like they are right now. Kosi turns and walks back to her side of the room. She’s about to climb on the ladder again when I make my way over. We are far from done here. I wrap and arm around her waist and pull her back down to the ground. “You’re forgetting the food. I thought you were hungry.”

For what feels like forever, she just stares at me before she quietly admits. “I’m not sure what I think anymore.”

I don’t think. I just react. Our mouths crash together in a chaotic mess. Teeth bump, tongues collide, her nails dig into my bare shoulder blades and my hands roam over her body. Once again, I’m hit by how right this feels. We stumble then she pushes me against the wall and wraps her arms around my neck before kissing me as if I’m saving her life. Damp paint feels sticky against my back but all I care about in this moment is her… I’d stay here in whatever fantasy or bubble this is, if I could.

Her nails scratch at the back of my head, tangling in my hair. My hands find the back of her thighs and I lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist and I sit her on one of the steps on the ladder. Both of our lips are still greedy for the others. How did we go from the constant insults and bickering to this?

Eventually, we pull away but I rest my forehead against hers. Our breaths mingle as we drag in air, desperate to get a clear thought. Kosi’s eyes remain closed, her baby doll-like cheeks flushed the perfect shade of pink, lips swollen. I reach my hands up into her hair and release the messy bun. The floral scent engulfs us as her strands scatter down. My hands twist into them before I bring my lips back to hers. The hell with oxygen. Who needs it anyways? Kissing Kosi feels more like breathing air than anything else I’ve ever experienced.

Her hands skim over my sides, her nails lightly drawing designs. She nibbles my bottom lip, driving me crazy. I used to think Kosi would be the death of me because of how boring I believed she was or because I’d say the wrong thing and push her overboard. Now, I don’t care, she can be the death of me as long as she kills me while kissing.

Twenty-Seven

Kosi

My head feels dizzy, and my heart is slamming around erratically in the confines of my chest. Nothing makes sense but this feels right. Roscoe’s hands leave a trail of fire wherever they land on my body. A different song joins in with the current one. For a moment we both ignore it until I realize it must be his phone. I place my palms on his bare chest. His skin beneath mine is heated and his chest feels as if it’s beating as hard as mine is. Applying a little bit of pressure, Roscoe takes a couple of steps back. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I reply quickly. “It’s just I think that’s your phone that’s ringing.”

Roscoe looks around before realizing where his phone is. He darts across the room. “It’s an unknown number.”

Looking over his shoulder I notice the number is local. “It’s a local number though. Maybe, you should answer it.”

He nods and answers the call. I step away to give him some space. I watch as the muscles in his back tense. “Is she okay?” My heart sinks. I really hope this isn’t about Riverlyn again. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” When Roscoe turns around he looks so torn. “That was Urban, one of the boys from Pit Stop. Apparently, Riverlyn showed up at some party and she ran into that Josh kid and now she’s upset.”

“Oh no,” I say quietly. “Poor thing. You should go take care of her.”

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