Page 78 of Wish You Were Mine
“Let’s take a look-see,” he said, his voice softening just enough to make me smile, even as I winced.
I glanced down, trying to angle my leg and pull up the cuff of my jeans without making it worse.
“Here, I’ll take that.” He held out his hand for the ice pack, which I gratefully handed over before tugging up the denim to reveal a growing bump and a darkening bruise.
“Oof,” he said quietly, kneeling slightly to get a better look. “That’s gonna be nasty. Is it pretty tender?” He reached forward and touched it, just barely, his fingers brushing the bruised skin with featherlight care.
“Yeah.” I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Pretty tender.”
“Sorry.” He immediately drew his hand back, eyes flashing with concern. “I probably shouldn’t have touched it.”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, since I’d been wishing for weeks that he’d touch me.
He handed me the wrapped ice again. “Better leave this on for twenty minutes.”
“Oh, I know the drill.” I let out a laugh.
“Right. Gymnast.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re probably a pro at this kind of thing.”
“Basically,” I said, holding the pack in place.
Then I realized how close we were—only a foot apart. If that.
And suddenly, the kitchen felt smaller. Warmer. Charged in a way that made my pulse thrum in my ears.
Owen’s gaze found mine, locked on for a beat. And then—just barely—his eyes flicked down to my mouth.
My breath caught.
Because I looked, too. Stupid, impulsive, reckless—I didn’t care. My eyes dropped to his lips before I could stop myself, remembering exactly how they’d felt on mine.
That first press of his mouth in the hot tub. The slow exploration that had followed. The way his hands had curled around my waist like he didn’t want to let go.
My stomach flipped. Heat pooled low in my body.
This close, I could smell him—warm and woodsy and familiar in a way that made something ache in my chest.
The ache that reminded me how much I wanted him. That I hadn’t stopped thinking about that night, and judging by the way his jaw tightened, the way his chest rose just a little deeper than normal…he hadn’t either.
The air between us stretched thin, electric.
I should look away. Say something to break the spell.
But I didn’t.
I stayed right there, watching him. Letting the moment linger longer than it should.
His hand twitched at his side like he almost reached for me. And for a second, I actually thought he would. That maybe he’d pull me in again. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t stop himself.
I held my breath.
But then he blinked, hard—like he was dragging himself outof a trance. He cleared his throat, took a quick step back, and shoved a hand through his hair.
“I, uh…I’ll grab you some water,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Maybe some pain medicine?”
“Just water’s great,” I said, still trying to gain control of my breathing.
He turned toward the cupboard, but I could still feel the heat of him. The pull of what almost happened…and what couldn’t.
