Page 70 of A Little Crush
“You’re not stupid, Jax,” she snaps. “Stubborn, pigheaded, and a little holier than thou sometimes but not stupid.” Her icy gaze cuts me to the core before she slams the door and marches toward her childhood home without a backward glance.
And fuck, I’ve never hated myself more.
I knew it was possible. I knew there was a small chance that the reason behind her innocence had something to do with me. Whether it was my initial rejection from all those years ago or her long-standing crush I’m not entirely sure has dissipated. Hell, maybe it’s a combination of the two. But what’s worse is the way it messes with my head.
Am I the reason she never kissed anyone?
Squeezing the steering wheel, I watch her take three steps through the angry storm before I’m out the door. The rain pelts my T-shirt, soaking me as soon as I climb out of the car. “Dammit, Rory!” I yell, praying she can hear me over the pounding rain. “Let me talk to you?—”
“Why?” She twists around to face me and shoves her wet hair away from her face. “Why should I let you talk to me when there’s nothing to talk about in the first place?”
“Because thereisshit to talk about!” I march toward her as water splashes off the concrete pathway. “I screwed up?—”
“Was it really so bad?” The question comes out as a squeak, and her angry facade slips to reveal a hefty dose of confusion and exasperation when she finally looks me in the eye. I don’t know how it’s possible, but she’s more gorgeous than ever. Her wet blonde hair clings to the side of her faceas her tongue slips between her lips to catch the rainwater. “You keep apologizing,” she murmurs, “like it was…like it was this terrible experience. And don’t get me wrong. It was…sloppy, but I didn’t think,” her chest heaves, “I didn’t think it was this absolutely disgusting moment like you keep painting it to be every single time you open your stupid mouth and apologize?—”
“Not apologizing because it was disgusting,” I growl. “I’m apologizing because…” My nostrils flare and I try to reel in my temper. “I want to make it right.”
“What?”
“I said, I want to make it right.” Rain droplets stream down our faces as she stands motionless in front of me. “I had no right to your first kiss,” I continue. “Not all those years ago, and I sure as shit had no right to it when I was drunk off my ass and couldn’t give you what you deserved.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Drop it, Jax?—”
“Not gonna drop it, Squeaks.” I reach for her, and by some miracle, she doesn’t pull away. “Not after everything I’ve put you through.”
A clap of thunder makes her flinch, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “Stop making yourself a martyr,” she begs.
“So you’re saying I haven’t put you through shit?” I counter, ignoring the raging storm around us as I inch closer. “You said so yourself. It was sloppy, and you deserve a hell of a lot more than a drunken kiss as your first.”
She wipes the rain from her forehead with the back of her hand, though more droplets replace them in an instant. “So what’s your solution?” she asks. “Obviously, the apology didn’t get you anywhere.”
“Give me a redo.”
Her brows dip. “What?”
“Give me a redo,” I repeat. “If you’ve waited this long for the perfect first kiss, let me give it another try.” I move closer,not even giving a shit that we’re both soaked from head to toe. Not giving a shit that I’m crossing a line I have no right to cross. Not giving a shit that the odds of this fixing anything are slim to none. But even then, I can’t convince myself to stop. Because I can’t do it again. Can’t let her waste another ten years building walls and convincing herself that she deserves anything less than being tasted and savored and appreciated like a fine fucking wine. “Let me give you the first kiss you deserved before I went and fucked it up.”
With a shaky breath, she parts her lips, and I raise my hands, cupping her cheeks and slipping my fingers along the back of her head before slowly descending. She lifts her chin and waits. Not pushing me away. Not telling me to stop. Instead, her eyelids flutter, her innocence driving me forward and making me feel like I’ve lost my damn mind.
I press my mouth to hers, softly framing her bottom lip with mine before lifting her head another inch and tilting my own for better access. She’s soft. Supple. Fucking perfect. Forcing myself to make this the best damn kiss she’ll ever have, I skate my mouth along her bottom lip again, using the lightest suction before dipping my tongue along the plump flesh. The taste of fresh rain mixes with our kiss. It slips between our parted lips as I drag my thumb along her wet cheeks, committing her taste to memory.
Perfect. Fuckingperfect.
Reaching up, she grabs onto my wrist and opens her mouth. Barely. Hell, the movement is so subtle, I would've missed it if I wasn’t so wrapped up in all things Rory that I’m pretty sure I could get struck by lightning right here, right now, and I’d die a happy man. I kiss her harder, deepening the kiss and invading her sweet little mouth so I can taste her more fully. Her breath hitches at the intrusion before she meets me halfway, dragging the tip of her tongue against mine. Cautiously. Carefully. The subtle touch shoots straightto my cock and steals the oxygen from my lungs. I knew she’d taste incredible. I knew her innocence would be a turn on, but this? This is more than I bargained for, and more than my self-control can handle.
Fucking perfect.The same thought filters through my mind, and I doubt it’ll be the last time. My fingers dig into the back of her scalp with the slightest pressure before I force my hands to relax and tear my mouth from hers. The things I could do to her. The things I could show her. Teach her. My jaw locks as I try to get ahold of myself, but it’s hard, and I mean that literally. If I don’t stop now, I’ll ask her if I can come inside—also in the literal sense. My dick pulses at the possibility, and I press my forehead to hers, willing myself to calm the hell down.
Get a grip, asshole!
“Any better than last night?” I ask.
Her lips curve in a shy smile as she peeks up at me, the rain clinging to her lashes. “I mean, I kind of liked the whole boob grab thing you had going, but?—”
“Don’t tempt me,” I growl.
“Why?” Her voice is breathy and quiet and hot as hell. “Are you tempted?”
The woman has no clue.
