Page 60 of Damascus & The Wildfire
I pulled into my driveway and put the vehicle in park. There was only one way to find out. To stop the spiraling. I opened my phone to send the text before I lost my nerve.
Me:
Can you come over?
I tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Merrick responded within seconds.
Merrick:
What’s going on?
Me:
Nothing serious. I just need to see you.
My gut churned as I considered how to broach this conversation now that I’d pulled the trigger.
Merrick:
I’m close by. Be there in 10.
There was no backing out now. I paced by the door with a confused Brisket at my heels, wringing my hands in front of me. My stomach lurched as the distant rumble of a motorcycle grew louder, then cut offabruptly outside.
Was I really going to do this? Could I jeopardize our friendship in this wild experiment?
I opened the door to find Merrick jogging up to my house, concern etched across his face. The porch creaked as his heavy boots hit each step.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes scanned my body, as if he were looking for bruises or marks.
I grabbed a fistful of his cut as he stepped through my door.
“Kiss me,” I demanded.
A faint crease pulled between his brows. “What?”
“Kiss. Me.” I punctuated each word and tugged on the leather until he stood flush against my body.
For a heartbeat, he hesitated. “Kenna …” He searched my face.
My stomach dropped as regret coursed through me. I loosened my grip on the leather as I began to step away.
“Fuck it,” Merrick muttered, pressing into my body until he pinned me between the wall and the solid heat of his chest, one hand gripping my hip. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, his hand moving up to gently wrap around my neck. The kiss was tentative for a beat before it became hungry.
Sensation surged across my body, and my heart began to beat in my chest like a trapped hummingbird as his tongue swept across the seam of my mouth, coaxing me to open. He deepened the kiss, and I hummed in pleasure. I melted against him as he slowly consumed me.
Merrick pulled back and gazed at me, and my breath caught. He tucked a rogue curl behind my ear. “Not that I’m complaining, but why?”
I hesitated. I hadn’t thought this part through. He stepped back, giving me space as he saw the uncertainty flit across my face.
I grimaced. “It’s going to sound bad.”
“Try me.”
“I’m serious. It’s horrible.”
“Stop spiraling. Tell me,” he said, his tone calm but insistent.
The words spilled out in a rush. “Hatchet kissed me after brunch, and I felt nothing. I was worried that maybe I was broken. Maybe I’d never feel this again because I’m dead inside. Numb. But then I started thinking about you. I wanted to kiss you to see how it felt.” I stopped to catch my breath, bracing for anger or judgment to cross his face.
