608 Alpha Avenue (Cherry Falls)

How can you argue that? How can you make excuses for it? How can you pretend someone has any interest in you whatsoever when they say they shouldn’t have touched you?

He told me. He explained it, so why am I struggling so much over this?

I like my personal space. I like to get to be me every day and not worry if I say the wrong thing or give off the wrong impression because it doesn’t fucking matter.

I frown.

He didn’t give me the wrong impression.

At least I know, I guess. It was great sex. That’s all. I can put it aside and move on, learning something, hopefully, from the experience.

Something more than what it’s like to orgasm more than once in the span of a few minutes.

“I just hoped …” I sigh and look at myself again. “I hoped he’d turn out to be the one.”

While I waited on the fliers for the shop to print last night, I got out my manuscript. It took a second for me to get started, but once I did, the words poured from my soul.

I always thought I’d start a book with something happy, have a fun come together of my hero and heroine, and then break them up before ending on a positive note. Little did I know that the story in my heart started a bit darker.

It started with my heroine having a broken heart.

“A little life imitates art,” I say like I’m a true artist. Still, I like the sound of it. It feels good.

Just like being with Grayson did.

I turn away from the mirror and check the clock. My date should be arriving any minute. I grab my purse and make sure I have some cash.

“If Grayson doesn’t want to be with me, then so be it,” I mutter. “He’ll realize what he could’ve had one day, and it’ll be too late. I’ll be at dinner with some guy, and he’ll walk up and—”

The doorbell rings, breaking through my thoughts.

My stomach flutters with a host of butterflies. I clutch my purse as I head to the door.

“No more Grayson,” I whisper, pulling the door open. “You’re going to focus tonight on—Grayson!”

I grip the side of the door to steady myself.

He’s standing on the porch, hands planted on each side of the door. It’s as if he’s caging me in my living room with his entire body and blistering eyes.

“What are you doing here—”

He grips the side of my face with both hands and brings his lips to mine.

I hesitate, caught off guard by both his presence and the kiss. I open my mouth to object, or, at the very least to protest, when he scoops up the words with his tongue and swallows them whole.

The heat of his mouth, the passion of the kiss, the warmth of his arms makes all of my pause melt away.

At least for now.

A kiss never hurt anyone.

I drop my purse on the floor and plant my hands on his chest. My brain screams at me to think about what I’m doing, but my heart overrides it.

He kisses me long and hard, then slow and soft. His tongue works around my mouth in a careful, leisurely way.

My body sags into his hard chest as his hands skim my body and lock at the small of my back. I’m dizzy with lust, with questions, and, more than anything, I’m dizzy with possibility.

Finally, after what feels like both forever and not long enough, he pulls back. His forehead rests against mine.

I drag in hasty breaths, unsure what to say.

“You can’t go on that date tonight,” he says, his voice ragged.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine.”

Every synapse in my body misfires, and my knees go weak.

You’re mine—two words I’ve always wanted to hear. But to hear them from Grayson?

“I was an ignorant asshole,” he says.

“Yes. Yes, you were,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.

The memory of the hurt—the way he didn’t call, how he walked out on me at Fireside, his words at the auto shop—come hauling back. It stings my heart.

Grayson reads me and mutters under his breath.

“You could’ve handled this differently,” I tell him. “You should’ve.”

“I know.”

I pull away from his embrace. It kills me to do it, and I instantly miss the heat of his body, but I do it anyway out of self-preservation.

“Why are you here?” I ask him, touching my lips with the pad of my finger.

He drops his head.

“You can’t just come here and kiss me,” I say. “You can’t just … decide when you want some form of … whatever from me and then walk off. Because that’s not how I’ve ever operated, and I’m not going to start being someone’s booty call, Grayson. Not even for you.”

His eyes flip to mine. “That’s not what I’m doing. That’s not what this is.”