Page 9 of Fast Currents
I exhaled in one long gust. I did like it. Too damn much.
“Okay, hotshot. What happens if we hook up, and it’s bad? We’re going to see each other every week for art classes. It’s a small island, and you’re friends with my friends. What’s going to happen if we crash and burn, or if the chemistry’s not there?”
My objections were legit, even if they weren’t the real reason I was scared of seeing what we could be. Worse than it being bad? It being good. So good I’d forget how long it took to rebuild myself.
“If you feel that strongly about it, we could test us out privately—no labels or expectations.”
He probably meant it as a compromise, a way to meet me halfway, but I still recoiled.
I’d worked too hard to leave the negative voices of the past where they belonged. Christopher had been eager to downplay our relationship in public. In private, he’d call me the only woman who ever understood him. Said heneededme. But infront of his coworkers, he’d mock my hair or outfit, then blame me for taking things personally and getting too emotional when I called him out on it. Acting like I was too needy or immature. It took me forever to realize that half his friends thought I was just some clingy girl he hooked up with, not his girlfriend.
Clay’s offer, well-meaning or not, zapped a hidden nerve. The one that was still raw and aching beneath all the armor I’d built.
“Dude, have you met me? I’m not keeping anything on the down-low. I’m not anyone’s side piece or secret.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. More like holding a mini-trial. One kiss. For science. Then you’d have the facts to make your decision.”
Clever man, putting me in the driver’s seat. Especially when I couldn’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to kiss him, now that he’d brought it up.
It’d been so long since I let anyone touch me. Suddenly, I ached for the brush of his lips. Wanted to feel the gentle scrape from his beard, taste the lingering hint of iced tea on his tongue.
“One kiss.”
He nodded. He looked so earnest, standing beneath the parking lot lights in his uniform. His dark eyes were drowning me in their chocolatey depths.
An itty-bitty kiss. Just a taste. To see if we clicked.
I closed my eyes, swaying forward. “Okay. One.”
Every sense was attuned to him. His big body blocked most of the wind, giving me a sensation of shelter. He was close enough that a simple lean would close the distance. But the only thing touching me was the breeze.
My heartrate picked up, my blood pounding heavily in my ears, making it impossible to count seconds Cool air caressed my cheeks, anticipation building as I waited. And waited.
When I finally reopened my eyes, Clay stood in front of me like a statue.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
“The right moment,” he rasped. His voice sounded strained.
My eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of smugness in his expression, relaxing when I couldn’t detect any.
“Robertson, I don’t get you. I thought seizing the moment was your whole schtick.” I spread my arms wide. “Seize me already, dammit.”
“I want our first kiss to be special.”
I hated that part of me wanted that too. Wanted him to mean it. To make it last. To be different.
“You’re unbelievable. Hot and cold. This is why I have trust issues.”
It wasn’t fair. I knew it as I said it.
“Lucifer, those started long before you met me, and you know it. Think of this as my way of building credibility.”
“How is asking to kiss me and not delivering building anything?” I asked, exasperated.
“I’m giving you time to get to know me first.”
“I don’t have to know you to kiss you. They’re just lips. I’ve kissed my grandmother with them.” I wrinkled my nose, distracted from my rant by the image of me locking lips with my grandma. “Not on the mouth, obviously.”
