Page 49 of Escape Girl

The silence stretched on, long enough. “I want to kiss you so much, I’m fucking dizzy,” he whispered. One hand slid from my shoulder to grip my hair behind my head. “But what I want doesn’t matter.” He believed that, but I wish he didn’t. What he wanted did matter. Always.

I licked my lips and rose an inch on my toes. Bobby’s eyelids lowered a fraction. “You look like you want my mouth on you.But I won’t make assumptions. If you want me to kiss you, you’re going to have to say so.”

No.I didn’t want words, any words. There was a chance that words would make me think, and thinking was not something I wanted to do. For the rest of the night. I glared up at him. “I just told you I don’t want to talk.” If he needed me to be the instigator on this terrible decision, however, that I could do. I took that fateful step forward, throwing my arms around his neck and yanking him down to me.

I pressed my lips to his, and I was lost.

Kissing Bobby was so…lush. His lips and tongue moved with mine so effortlessly. His mouth took and gave in a rhythm that was sometimes lazy and sometimes brutal. I reveled in every damn detail of this reunion. I felt the scruff on his face scratch mine. With his fist in my hair, he tugged, just enough to feel good and claimed.

My hand went to the back of his head to return the tug and floundered when the hair wasn’t long enough. I settled for stroking the soft skin on the back of his neck, and Bobby shuddered. I opened my mouth wider as he pushed me back against the wall of the hallway.

The kiss grew wilder, like a fire out of control. His lips were voracious, matching my appetite perfectly. Pinned against the wall with his body, I slid my hands under his jacket. My hands traced the contours of his chest and back, exploring the once-known terrain, feeling for changes. He felt leaner and harder than I remembered.

He slid a big, muscled thigh between my legs, giving me friction exactly where my body most wanted it. “Oh God,” escaped from my lips before I remembered that I hadn’t wanted to speak. The moment Bobby heard my wanton exclamation, he pulled his mouth away.

I blinked up at him in blurry protest. “You’re coming home with me,” he said, as if the matter had already been decided. Maybe I would have said something different if he hadn’t followed it up with an abrupt, guttural, “Please.”

Who knew that rough politeness was such a ridiculous turn-on?

I nodded, once, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the exit door.

Chapter Fifteen

Bobby drove usto his home in a car I didn’t recognize. We didn’t speak at all on the drive, which was odd and charged. I couldn’t even pretend to be distracted with work emails because I’d left my phone in my purse in the bar. I sure hoped that Heather or Andie would grab my bag off the table before they left.

The streets went by in a blur. I didn’t know Chicago well enough to orient myself. We were headed north, I thought, but that was about all I could tell from looking out the window. After ten minutes, Bobby pulled over in front of a townhouse on a residential street.

I glanced around the neighborhood as I climbed out of the car. Why had Bobby chosen this place? Was he renting or had he bought the property? I bit my tongue to keep from asking. I shouldn’t be here at all, so I had no right to dive in deeper.

“I’m on a year lease,” he said, reading my mind. “I liked it because it’s about halfway between work and the Lakeview apartment where Jamie is living with Jo. There are a couple of microbreweries in the neighborhood. A library I can walk to. Lots of good takeout options too.”

Inside the townhouse, I followed him into a kitchen with white cabinets and stainless appliances. Without asking, he poured me a glass of water. I downed it all quickly, and he silently refilled the glass. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head, suddenly kind of impatient. This wasn’t a date, damn it. I didn’t come here for a home-cooked meal. He quirked an eyebrow at me. “One-track mind, Em? Straight to bed then?”

His voice was warm, teasing, and oh so familiar. It lured some words right out. “Your hair is so short,” I blurted.

He snorted. “You’re focused onmyfollicular change?” He reached out and wound a lock of my hair around his fingers. “I always wondered…” He swallowed, audibly. “You’re gorgeous.”

I wasn’t. But God help me, he’d always made me feel so beautiful.

His lips were pursed like he was going to ask a question, and I took a step back. No talking, no thinking. I already knew that future-Emily was going to curse present-Emily to hell and back, so I didn’t need to give her additional ammunition.

Over Bobby’s shoulder, a flash of color caught my eye. His kitchen was mostly brand-new. Everything was white and silver, and there was no clutter. But on the range sat a bright yellow and slightly battered teapot.

Myteapot. I’d had it forever. My sinuses began to burn.No. No talking, no thinking.

Bobby understood what had caught my attention. “Oh. Yeah. I brought it from ho—” He stopped, shook his head. No, it wasn’t home anymore. “I brought it from San Francisco.”

“Why?” While I made at least two cups of mint or chamomile every night, Bobby never drank tea.

His eyes went from vulnerable to shuttered and back again. “In case you were ever here.”

I dragged my eyes and heart away from the sunny little pot. It was too much, all of it. I’d been wrong to let my hormones overtake my common sense, and I needed to leave. But how? Find Bobby’s phone and get an Uber?

“You don’t need to run away.” Ugh, why could he still read me so well? “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, including talk to me.” He let out a harsh, sad laugh. “The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I’m not insane anymore.”

What did that mean? My gaze skittered to the teapot again.

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