Page 38 of All Too Well
I let out a long sigh, smile, and shake my head. “Nope, I was amazing then, too, and it got me nowhere. Third door on the right is the guest room. You can stay there. I have to go to work now.”
“Lachlan!” Ainsley is on her feet, following me into the kitchen. “I need this story.”
“So get the story without me.”
She groans. “You are the story!”
I’m not. No one really gives a shit about a washed-up college football player. “Sorry I can’t help you.”
“You are so maddening! You’re not leaving without telling me why.”
I grab my keys and start to move to the right, but she blocks me.
“Move,” I say, leaving no room for argument.
But this is Ainsley, and she isn’t the slightest bit scared of me. “Not until you tell me why you’re being such an ass about this.”
“No.”
“Yes!”
The tension in my jaw is so tight I could shatter my teeth. “Move, Ainsley.”
She shifts to the left when I do. “Just let me interview you.”
“If you don’t move, I’m going to pick you up and move you myself,” I warn.
Ainsley crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not moving.”
“Suit yourself.” I take the two steps to her and lift her, but when I grab her, she wraps her arms and legs around me, plastering herself to me.
I try to adjust, but instead I now have her pinned against the wall. Her scent is everywhere, that jasmine and vanilla that she’s worn forever. Her brown eyes are locked on mine, and there’s a hitch in her breathing.
My hand is under her ass, holding her body to mine, and suddenly the antagonism between us is lost, and in its place is desire.
So much fucking desire.
The events of the morning, the fear, the need to save her, have morphed into this—a want that is bone deep.
I start to release her, but she grips me tighter.
“Don’t,” I say to both her and myself.
We stare into each other’s eyes, and I see the same emotions mirrored in hers. For years I’ve thought about that night, when I was drunk and alone in that garden. When she was against me, just like this, kissing me.
Then pushing her against that stone wall, driving into her mouth, taking everything that she offered and drowning in her, until I realized what I was doing and had to stop it, forcing her to leave me, but I didn’t know she’d never come back.
She leans her forehead to mine and loosens her grip. The loss of her body around mine causes an ache in my chest that makes me want to scream out.
“One day we’re going to have to figure this out and stop dancing around what we feel,” she says as she lifts her head from mine. “Just not today, it seems.”
I take a step back and shake my head. “No, because our dance ended before it began.”
With that, I throw the door open and head to my truck, where I can berate myself on the way to work.
eight
Ainsley
