Page 39 of The Uncomplicated Café
Cupping her chin gently with his fingertips, Jayce bent his head, his lips mere inches from hers.
Fire spread through her body, igniting every nerve ending like a torch touching a trail of kerosene.
This was it. He was actually going to kiss her.
Her eyelids fluttered, softly closing, then half opened, as if her brain couldn’t discern between awake and dreaming.
“I can’t,” Jayce breathed, each syllable thick and labored. “Not like this.”
Angling his face to hide their lips from view, he hovered his mouth over hers, lingering so close, she could almost taste him.
Her heart stung with the sharp prick of rejection, but a whisper of hope simmered beneath the surface.
Not like this…
Did a scenario exist where hewouldkiss her?
And if he did, what, if anything, would it mean?
Chapter Twenty-Two
JAYCE
Jayce squeezed his eyes shut,every muscle in his body straining, yearning to move one more millimeter.
How many times had he held this exact pose? So many, it had become rote, perfunctory, perfected to the point he could fake a kiss in his sleep.
So, why were his fingers shaking?
For the first time, he actuallywantedto kiss the woman on the other side of the performance. So badly, the desire consumed him, almost pushing him to the point of no return.
But he couldn’t kiss CeCe like this, tainted by paparazzi, under a guise.
It needed to be real. An undeniable, unyielding expression of his love for her. It needed to mean something. And if he crossed the line tonight, the opportunity for a perfect first kiss would be lost forever.
Satisfied with the photo opp, the paparazzi dispersed, leaving them alone on the beach once again.
Regretfully, Jayce dropped his hand, immediately missing the warmth of her skin. He took a step back in the sand, creating some much-needed distance between them. Maybe his heartwould stop hammering if he could no longer feel the heat from her body.
Why did she have to look so beautiful in her casual cotton sundress with a plaid flannel button-up tied around her waist? She’d pinned back her curls with a clawlike clip, and he had a crazy urge to release them to the wind, to watch them dance around her face, to tangle them in his fingertips.
He cleared his throat, banishing the thought.
“Jayce?” CeCe murmured, her voice timid, tentative. She didn’t quite meet his gaze. “What did you mean?”
His pulse throbbed as his own words rushed back to him.
I can’t. Not like this.
Oh, no. Had he really said that aloud?
He’d been so focused on restraining his physical longing, he’d lost control of everything else. What explanation could he give her without revealing too much?
He decided to play dumb and rewind to an earlier part of their conversation, hoping she wouldn’t press further. “You mean when I said I had something important to tell you?” He continued talking before she had a chance to respond. “I have a confession.”
Her eyes widened, and for a split second, she looked wary, as if she wasn’t sure she could handle whatever he had to say.
A pang of disappointment shot through him. Was she afraid he was about to confess his undying—and clearly unwelcome—love for her?
