Page 61 of That Conflicted Feeling
“Oh,Iam.”Itake a sip and semi-choke. “Thisone tastes like tepid battery acid, as opposed to the chilled battery acidGeraldserved us.”
Pollyrests her head back on the shed, revealing the smooth front of her throat, and laughs. “Urgh.Whywould you punish yourself more?”
Ihand her the bottle.“Youtry.”
“Youhaven’t exactly sold it well.”Shetakes the bottle anyway and, without wiping the rim, puckers her lips and places her mouth right where mine just was.
Shetakes a small sip. “Hmm, actually not as bad on a second try.”
Shepasses it back.
Itake another mouthful. “Youknow what?IthinkIcan actually taste the gooseberries this time.”
Thebottle goes back and forth, tasting a little less horrific each time.Pollylaughs more with each sip.I’venever met anyone so joyous.
Thetiny window she said she saw in my heart?Iteases open a little bit more with each laugh, letting in more of her light.
Sheplaces the bottle on the other side of her, next to the wreath, and shakes her head. “Ican’t believe we’re sitting in a field, behind a shed, drinking bad wine before lunch.”
“Whendo you prefer to drink bad wine?”
“Preferablynever.”
Shepulls her knees up under her chin again, andIcatch sight of the wreath wound on her knee.
Themagic gooseberry and zucchini potion has weakened my resolve.
“Here, let me see that.”Irun my middle finger gently around the edges of the red mark.Myhand tingles at the touch of her skin, the blood flowing back up my arm warmer than when it left.
Pollyfalls silent and watches me touch her, watches my finger needlessly circle the scratch again.Andthen one more time.ExactlyasIdid with the graze on her hand outside the shop that morning.
Iturn my head to look at her and smile. “It’salready healing.Ithink you’ll live.”
Hereyes meet mine and she nods slowly.
Thedesperate need to touch her, to kiss her, to connect with her, consumes me, despite how much it conflicts with our businesses and lives.
Withoutbreaking eye contact,Icup her whole knee in the palm of my hand and stroke the top of her shin with my thumb.
Herbreath hitches.
It’slikeI’mtouching the most precious, private part of her.Thiscouldn’t feel more intimate ifIwere holding her breast, or ifI’dslipped my hand between her legs.
Pollyholds my gaze.Thelaughter in her eyes is gone, replaced with something more tender, a connection that says her pulse is racing as much as mine, her body flushed with the same heat, her core pulsing with the same desire.
There’sa tremble inside me and movement in my groin.Iwant nothing more than to slide my hand right up her leg and gently lay this smart, determined, beautiful woman on her back.
Butthis is not the moment for that.
Instead,Ilean in and lightly rest my cheek against hers.
Herbreath next to my ear sends a shiver down my side.
Whyis the woman who wants to drive me out of town the womanIwant in my life more thanI’veever wanted anyone?Sheshould be like an annoying flyIneed to swat out of my path.ButallIwant to do is wrap my arms around her, nurture her, and help her grow.Andhave an enormous amount of smoking-hot sex with her.
“Isaid no more amazing kisses.”Herbreath turns the shivers down my side to goosebumps.
Irest my lips against her earlobe. “Wouldyou like some terrible ones?”
