The Truth About Lennon

That damn kiss.

It caught me off guard. A kiss isn’t supposed to affect me the way that one did, and I hate to admit that it scared the shit out of me. I haven’t been this attracted to a woman since Kim, and she nearly destroyed me.

But I can’t compare Kim and Lennon, mostly because I don’t know much about Lennon, except that she’s a walking sex bomb with a heart of gold who seems smart as hell. A lethal combination if I’ve ever seen one.

I tried to push her away, tried to just be friends, but when she sat in front of me in my office, practically fucking me with her eyes, I lost it. Her warm body pressed against mine, lips softer than butter, and don’t even get me started on the breathy little moans she made while I was kissing her. She consumed me. All it took was the touch of her lips against mine, and the battle was lost.

A battle I needed to win.

And that’s when I got scared. I don’t have time to be consumed. It’s as simple as that.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

It’s a damn good thing Tommy walked in when he did, or I would have taken it too far. If kissing Lennon sets my body on fire, I can’t even imagine what it would be like if I had her naked.

Okay, I can imagine, but I can’t go there.

I absolutely cannot go there.

Except I want to.

Especially after the way I hurt her, and I did hurt her. It was written all over her face, and the look in her eyes has haunted me every second of the last two days.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I walk outside and sit on the porch swing, my eyes instantly locking on Lennon’s driveway. She’s still not home. I should know; I’ve been watching, waiting for her car to pull up so I can go talk to her.

Don’t have a fucking clue what I’ll say, but I need to say something. We sure as hell can’t leave things like this.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when my mom’s number pops up on the screen, I push all thoughts of Lennon to the side.

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Hi, princess!”

My heart melts at the sound of Nova’s voice. Sure, I’ve talked to her twice a day since she left, but it’s not the same. I miss her being here—her presence, her toys scattered from one end of the house to the other, her sweet laughter filling the silence.

“How’s your camping trip?”

My parents had the bright idea to take a road trip with their RV, and of course they insisted on bringing Nova. I, on the other hand, was not invited. Which I was absolutely cool with. A week to myself? Hell yes.

“It’s fun!” she squeals.

The background noise coming through the phone is almost too much, and I plug my other ear, hoping to hear Nova better.

“We went swimming and saw the mountains and then Papa took me to ride go-karts.”

“Go-karts?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That sounds like fun. Did you beat Papa?”

“Of course I did,” she says, as though I shouldn’t have to ask.

“Good girl. What else have you been doing?”

“We played golf and went swimming again, and then Nana had to buy me a new swimming suit. It’s pink and purple!”

“Why did Grandma have to buy you a new swimming suit?”