Meeting His Match (Single In the City 1)

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” Logan’s eyes darkened under the lamplight. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he stared down at her, the silence stretching between them.

“You’re wrong.” She broke free from his grip and took a step back, all of Blue’s warnings forgotten. “I don’t know any other way. You’re fooling yourself to think this could ever be real. We’ve played this whole thing out so well even you’ve started to believe it.”

She turned and started walking. She needed to get away from him—from this.

“You believe it too. I know you do,” he called out.

She paused and glanced back over her shoulder to where he stood, waiting, his silhouette a shadow in the streetlights.

Slowly, he reached out and gripped her waist, his touch electric, searing straight through the wool of her coat. The feel of his hot breath tickled her neck. She shivered as the subtle scent of him—dry leaves, cedar, leather, and man—made her head spin.

He pulled her back into the warmth of his chest and leaned over her shoulder, whispering into the shell of her ear, “This isn’t over until I say it is, and I won’t let you run away.”

Her throat turned to dust. “Who said I’m running?”

With a growl, he swiveled her around to face him. His expression said it all—that he saw right through her. He knew Marti better than anyone else—maybe even herself—and he meant what he said. He wouldn’t let her run away, wouldn’t let her hide from her feelings—from this, them.

His eyes flickered to her mouth, and her stomach plunged to the ground. She knew what he was asking without saying it. For a chance. For a way in. To “prove it,” as she had challenged him that long-ago day in the pizza parlor.

Marti’s lips parted, no longer taking instructions from her brain. She was tired of resisting, and in the seconds before his mouth crashed over hers, he whispered, “I’ll make you fall.”

His words gouged at the soft flesh around her heart, and with a sigh, she surrendered to the feel of him—warm and soft. Sinking into him, she reached up to trace the stubble over his jaw, snaking her thumb around to feel the curve of his lower lip move as he devoured hers.

Fall. . . Fall. . . Fall. . . she willed herself. Just let yourself fall.

Her heart thumped wildly. The tempo of their kiss increased, nothing like the soft tenderness and heat of their first kiss. A woman bumped her shoulder as she passed. A man cursed. Cabs zipped by them on the street and a horn honked in the distance, but the only thing that existed was that moment. There, with him, basked by the glow of the streetlight under an indigo sky.

This kiss was wild and hard. Teeth clashing. Lips biting. Sloppy in its perfection. Like it was the last one they’d ever have.

Tilting her chin on a moan, he tightened his hold on her, and all her fears slipped away.

His hands tangled in the hair trailing her spine, while hers moved to his chest, pressing over his heart, wanting to feel the beating like a drum, to know that this was real. They were alive, flesh and blood. One breath. Two hearts.

The world around her faded.

This is what it feels like to be free. To lose control. To fall.

His teeth nipped at her lower lip as the world swirled at their feet, disintegrating into a vast pool of nothingness. Only he existed—her, him, and this kiss.

Her back hit the wall of the building behind them. A man’s voice hollered, “Get a room, lady,” while someone else snickered.

He pressed into her. Even through her coat, the jagged brick bit at her back. His lips spoke to her, telling her it was okay to let go.

But the troubled little voice inside her head still existed.

The one that told her to run.

The one that belonged to the scared girl that placed chains around her heart.

Before she could stop herself, she pulled away. Heart banging. Breath wheezing from her lungs.

With the pulse of a machine gun, she swallowed her heart and looked into his eyes. “You can’t make me fall. No one can.”

And with that, she turned and walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MARTI