Damn Wright (The Wrights 2)

“Really.”

“Then this shouldn’t affect you.”

He reached out and clasped his hand around the back of her neck. The action made her realize just how close they were standing. Then his lips were pressed against hers.

She made a sound of surprise, planted her hands against his chest, but then froze. Time expanded. Past and present blurred. Distant fantasies drifted into the moment. His long, dark lashes dipped, and his lips gently suckled hers.

A fist gripped Emma’s heart, pumping joy and fear into the same small space. The move was so familiar—Dylan kissing her to shut her up. To end an argument. To take advantage of the passion in the moment and turn it into a bonding force instead of a combative one.

And just like that, they were in that little Hanover apartment again. Deeply in love. Best friends. Each half of the most amazing love story she’d ever known, ever imagined.

Love broke open in her chest. A deep, complete, all-consuming love. The raw purity of it destroyed her walls and wiped out her limits, clearing her mind of everything but the intense, sacred, blissful bond between them.

It was still there, living deep in her cells, and flaring to life like a backdraft offered oxygen.

Dylan pulled back, just a whisper of space between their lips, tilted his head and kissed her again. Softer. Longer.

He was right—she still wanted him, and she was exhausted from fighting against it all these years. Exhausted from struggling to move on, dating other men, promising to marry Liam.

She couldn’t keep up the resistance anymore, and in the moment, she didn’t want to either. She gave up the fight and leaned into the kiss. Curled her fingers into the front of his shirt.

Dylan hummed, soft and deep. He slid the hand at her neck into her hair and pulled her bottom lip between his. Her mind emptied and tension slid from her body. A purr vibrated in her throat, a sound she hadn’t made in years. With her brain on standby, she opened to him. Just a taste. She just needed one little taste.

Dylan wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. She was distracted by the body beneath his clothes. Hard. Strong. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, and her body caught fire. Her breath stalled in her lungs. He still tasted like pure, unadult

erated Dylan. The love of her life.

A car passed on the street, breaking the trance, and Emma was slammed back to reality, to her shitty apartment, her ailing car, her broken engagement. But worst of all, she and Dylan were over. They’d been over for eight excruciating years.

Emma broke the kiss and pushed off his chest. Dizzy, she closed her eyes and stepped back, one hand using the roof of her car to steady her, the other pressed against her lips. Whether to hold on to the kiss or wipe it away, she didn’t know. “That,” she breathed, “was a mistake.”

“No.” Dylan stepped in and wrapped his arm at her waist, pulling her close again. “That was destiny. You still love me, Em. I know you do.”

“I don’t.” Self-preservation kicked in. She couldn’t do this. Not again. She had a life, a career, a future, all without him, which was the way it should be. She pulled out of his grip and dropped her hand, but her lips still tingled. “No, I don’t.”

“Then why’d you kiss me back?”

“I didn’t.” Emma straightened and met his gaze. She might have tears stinging her eyes, but the idea of surrendering to Dylan after all the pain he’d caused her was a nonstarter. “Your brain is fried from standing so close to all those fucking bombs. Now get out of the way.”

Dylan’s gaze intensified, but he stepped back, giving her access to her car.

She dropped into the driver’s seat and reached for the door handle.

Dylan put a hand on top of the door to keep her from closing it. “Renovate this house with me, Emma. Then you’ll be completely free to make whatever decisions you want.”

She answered by jerking the door from his grasp and slamming it.

6

Emma took the twenty-minute drive to her parents’ house replaying her interaction with Liam and then Dylan, even though it had happened three days earlier.

The whole thing felt like a circus act in her head. Distorting truth and juggling lies. Her heart split between the giddiness at the top of the Ferris wheel and the plummet of a roller coaster.

But Liam wasn’t the man stealing her sleep. That was all Dylan. Emma couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his lips on hers. The taste of his tongue. The strength of his body and how it still fit her perfectly. He was taller than she remembered. Had more muscle than he did when he was younger.

Emma pressed her elbow to the window ledge and shifted in the driver’s seat. He made her hot all over. Made her hungry. Made her ache for things she’d given up on a lifetime ago.

And she had to admit, even if only to herself, he’d been right about far too many things. She did still want him. She did still love him. And, much to her annoyance, she had kissed him back.