“Hi.”
“I was going to head back to Anders’s place.”
I nodded. “You said.”
“Couldn’t bring myself to go.”
“You’ve been out there this whole time?”
His expression seemed bewildered and yet amused. Amazed even. The light in his eyes like he was almost laughing. “Must have looked like a goddamn stalker.”
“Are you drunk or high?”
“No. I had a few beers earlier, but they’ve pretty much worn off now.”
Huh. “You stared at my house, then climbed in the window and kissed me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
His brows rose. “I don’t know. ’Cause it was the only thing that made sense. I just, I keep thinking about that night with you at my place.”
“You do?”
“It’s like I can’t get it out of my head.”
“I think about it too,” I said. “Maybe we both need lobotomies.”
“The sex wasn’t even that good,” he said somewhat bluntly. “’Specially not for you.”
“That’s not true.”
He just gave me a look.
“Well,” I hedged. “I mean, I think it was probably as good as it could have been. For me.”
“It can be a lot better. I promise,” he said. “Anytime you want a do-over, just let me know.”
I smiled. “I am glad it was with you.”
He smiled too. Then he tucked my hair behind my ear, softly running his thumb over the new scar cutting across my forehead. “Hate how that asshole hurt you.”
“You got hurt too. You got shot.”
His smile morphed into something altogether more serious. “Yeah. But I should have been able to protect you.”
“Don’t,” I said. “We both got out alive. That’s what matters.”
“Hmm.”
Head tilted, he placed his mouth against mine. It was just that easy, falling back into our kiss. This time he led me down onto the mattress, onto my back. All without our lips separating for more than a moment. Bliss felt like this, his thumb running back and forth along my jawline, fingers resting on my neck. I touched his face and held back his hair. I kissed him deeper, trying to show him how much he meant to me, how much I cared.
Over the top of my tank, his hand stroked down my side, fingers straying close to my breast. Oh, man. It all felt so incredibly good. The hot and hard length of his body resting against mine. All sorts of obscene thoughts ran riot through my head. I wanted more and more. I wanted everything. Guess it was a problem with sex. Once you’d gone that far, the expectation would be to go there again. But I didn’t know if I was ready. And I really didn’t know what doing it with John a second time might mean.
I broke away, breathing hard.
“It’s alright,” he said, pressing kisses to the side of my face. “We don’t have to go any further.”
“How did you know?”
“You stiffened up.” He tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s okay. I’m good with just this.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
I frowned, embarrassed. “But you’re used to having sex.”
“It won’t kill me, Edie,” he said gently. “Relax.”
Timid messed-up maiden, that was me. I slipped my hand beneath the sleeve of his shirt, curving my fingers around his non-injured shoulder. Touching him came naturally, I couldn’t have stopped my fingers if I tried. Not that I was interested in trying. “One more uncomfortable question: What does this mean?”
“It means I like being here kissing you.”
I let out a long breath. “Okay.”
“Is that enough?”
“Yes,” I said, because it was. For now. “Next time, don’t stand out in the dark. Just come in, okay?”
His gaze softened. “Thanks. Don’t know why I did that, why I couldn’t just make up my mind. Maybe I really am going crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“Sure about that?” he asked.
“Yes. Well, mostly.” Best to be truthful. “I think anyone who went through what we did is bound to come out of it a bit of a mess.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “No idea when I slept last. Like, really slept.”
“Then lie down.” I rolled onto my side, facing him as he lay his head on the pillow next to mine. “Close your eyes.”
He did as told for about a second. “Always feel like I’m wired. Like something’s about to happen, I just don’t know what.”
“I get that too,” I said. “Sort of like I’m on the edge of a panic attack. Just waiting.”
“Weed helps sometimes. Not always.”
“Mr. Solomon taught me a breathing technique. Lie on your back,” I ordered, doing likewise. “Put one hand on your stomach and one hand on your chest.”
“I’d rather put a hand on your chest. Probably wouldn’t calm me down, though.”
“Probably not. One on your stomach and one on your chest. Yours. As in, your own.” I waited until he complied, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “Now, breathe in for three seconds through your nose. Then hold it for ten seconds before exhaling through your mouth.”
Together, he and I did the breathing. Air rushing in, waiting, then air pushing out.
“Only the hand on your chest is supposed to be moving. Oh, and you’re supposed to think ‘relax’ as you exhale,” I said. “Go again.”
“This is what your mom pays that shrink a fortune for?”
“Shut up and breathe.” I inhaled, holding it in, trying to think peaceful thoughts. Then let it all out.
“How long do we do this for?” he asked, breathing in deeply.
“As long as it takes. Keep going.”
I switched off the lamp, watching the outline of him in the dark, waiting for my night vision to kick in. With the required rhythm, his chest rose and fell. Then I realized he still had his shoes on. Not so comfortable. Dealing with the laces made things tricky and he might have laughed at me just a bit for fumbling around in the dark. But whatever.
“Close your eyes and concentrate,” I said.
“They’re closed.” A few minutes later, he yawned, and whispered, “I’ll go before your mom gets home.”