Finding Him (Covet 2)

I hesitated then asked, “Why a kiss?”

His lips pressed into a smile. “Because it’s the only thing that exists in this universe that tells you everything without saying a word.”

I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “Yeah, next time lead with that.”

“Noted.” He tilted my chin with his thumb. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s just a kiss,” I said, more to myself than him. “One kiss. It means nothing.”

“Absolutely nothing,” he agreed.

“Fine.” I licked my lips and waited.

And of course he took his time.

He didn’t lean in and press his lips against mine. That would be too easy, and I was beginning to understand that easy wasn’t in Julian Tennyson’s vocabulary. He smoothed my cheeks with his hands then ran them down my neck only to slowly pull me against his rock-hard chest while his mouth pressed against my neck like he was breathing me in.

My knees shook while I tried to rein in the shiver that was slowly spreading down my legs to my toes. His lips brushed against mine. The feeling was so foreign, I hadn’t kissed anyone since Noah. My dreams didn’t count.

This was a full-on assault of all of my senses, and he was barely touching me.

His lower lip slid against mine, and then he was kissing me, kissing me so achingly slow that my chest hurt.

He said a kiss spoke without using words.

And his absolutely screamed ache.

It wrecked me, ruined my resolve, and made me weak because I was that girl—the one that wanted to fix all the things. I’d wanted to fix Noah and make him better, and even though Julian’s hurt was obviously different, a part of him was still broken.

And I wasn’t stupid enough to believe a kiss would fix it, but it would at least soothe the ache, that’s what affection did to a person’s soul, it took the sting away.

I deepened the kiss without thinking.

Wrapped my arms around his neck.

And didn’t even realize I was airborne until my butt hit the countertop as his mouth pressed harder against mine, searching as his lips demanded more.

I said one kiss.

This was multiple.

Then again, his lips never left mine.

Did it count?

Why was I overthinking this rather than enjoying the sensation of the best kiss of my life?

I shoved him away as gently as I could. Guilt descended like a choking fog. Logically I knew I hadn’t just cheated.

But it felt wrong.

Because it felt so good.

So right.

“So . . .” I could barely keep the tremor out of my voice as I looked up at him. “What did my kiss say?”

His eyes searched mine, and then he very gently leaned in and kissed my cheek, whispering in my ear, “Sad.”

Chapter Sixteen

JULIAN

My first kiss had been in that cabin.

My first real kiss.

I’d brought a friend from school—one I wanted to be my girlfriend. We stayed up late, and one thing led to another, we broke into my parents’ liquor cabinet, drank way too much peppermint schnapps, and ended up making out on the couch like the horny teenagers we were.

I chuckled and ate another bite of pasta.

Keaton had been oddly quiet ever since I kissed her. I refused to apologize for something that felt so right.

“What’s funny?” She yawned behind her hand. “Good pasta, by the way.”

I smiled. “Took you three servings to figure that out?”

She ignored me, I was getting used to it. Old Julian would have been livid if he’d been waved off the way she did it, but for some reason I enjoyed it because I knew it meant she was uncomfortable or irritated, which also meant she wasn’t kissing my ass. I’d had enough ass-kissing to last me a lifetime.

Perfect, next I was probably going to ask to braid her hair, then pull said braid in order to prove to her that I liked her. My future was bright!

I cleared my throat. “I was just thinking about the last time I had a girl here.”

“Wow.”

“Jealous?”

“Extremely. Did you even know her last name?”

“Higgins,” I said quickly. “And I was fourteen, so before you start imagining strippers and dollar bills . . .”

“Fourteen?” she said, ignoring the stripper comment. “That was the last time you were here?”

I nodded and poured her another glass of wine since her glass was empty. Plus it gave me something to do with my hands, and I found that anytime the subject floated back toward me and my past, I felt fidgety. “My parents divorced that same year, and it was too painful to come back. Some of my favorite memories were with my family, with my brother and my mom. Dad usually showed up for a day tops, then left with another emergency at the office. It was the only time I could ever—” I stopped myself.

Too late.

She leaned forward. “It was the only time you could ever what?”