Page 55 of Never Started
I chuckle at the memory of that night, and she shoots me a glare that would set me ablaze if it could.
"For someone whose eyes depend on him making quick of it, you sure are taking your sweet time to speak up!" she says, raising her hand, grasping tighter to the pepper spray. But she stops short as I stand, softly grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her to me.
Fuck it, she can spray me if she wants to.
I don't even care. Every part of me wants to touch her, feel her body against mine, to know she's really here.
"What are you doing?" she whispers in a hiss, breathlessly, as her body crashes into mine.
"What I should have done two years ago when I first laid eyes on you," I whisper back, taking her mouth with mine.
The kiss is slow and tender. Her lips move perfectly in sync with mine as the world around us melts away. Nothing else matters but this moment. I hear a thump and know the threat of the pepper spray is officially gone.
She lets out a soft moan just as her lips slightly part, and I slide my tongue in, meeting the massage of hers.
Fuck yes.
I pull back slightly, nibbling on her bottom lip. She gasps and instantly pulls back, denying me.
I'm met with a firm palm across the face.
Ouch.
For the tiny little woman that she is, she smacks like a man. Noted.
"I don't fucking kiss!" she yells at me, pulling out of my grasp and wiping her mouth clean of me.
I attempt to catch my breath, but my head is reeling from the fucking whiplash. I return to my barstool, but she remains standing there, panting.
Smirking, I say, "Well, firecracker, it appears to me that you do. Because you just did, and you did it very well if I do say so myself."
She scoffs in disgust, still clearly flustered by our kiss that she undeniablydidenjoy, whether she wants to admit it or not.
"Start explaining, or I'll leave now!" she barks, attempting to regain her composure.
I shrug, leaning an elbow casually on the bar. "I'm not stalking you. Maybe you're stalking me. Come to think of it—"
"HA! I didn't even remember what you looked like." She raises a challenging brow. "Try again, jackass."
Point taken.
"I was in Arkansas on business. I work in the oilfield and was there doing contract work. I went out with friends the night before our contract ended to celebrate the completion of the job, and just so happened to run into a beautiful wildfire."
I don’t mention seeing her outside of my parents' restaurant. She’s already skeptical about how we met up like this, and knowing more would only raise her guard further. The last thing I’m willing to do is completely scare her away.
She scoffs, mulling my words over. "That doesn't explain why you're here now, in my hometown." Her eyebrows pinch together, and her impatience with me is growing by the millisecond.
I chuckle. "I live here, but I'm originally from New Orleans. Living in the city wasn't panning out anymore with how I work, so I found a farmhouse with some land here in Sugarland.” Pausing, I drum my fingers on the bartop. “You know, I sure am dishing out a lot of information about myself, but you aren't giving up any."
"And I won't," she deadpans, and my smile grows.
Her beautiful green eyes narrow. "You smile a lot, even when you shouldn't."
"What can I say? I'm a happy guy. I can tell you something that would make me even happier."
"Oh yeah, what's that?" she asks, unimpressed.
"You."
