“Don’t stop,” she whispers, coiling her fingers into my T-shirt like I had plans to. Like I even could. Greedy and grasping, her motions mirror mine. We can’t kiss enough, touch enough, to either of our satisfactions. It’s daylight—late afternoon. Anyone could pass by and see us dry humping in the alleyway, but neither of us has enough fucks to give, desire burning away sense as we fight to get closer, fight for the upper hand.
“Jesus, how I’ve missed you.” The admission is a low rumble dragged from the depths of my chest. I know it sounds like a line, like bullshit, but God strike me down if it is. If I haven’t looked for her in every brunette who’s passed me by on the street.
“Roman.” I feel her swallow. Taste her tongue as she licks her lips.
“I know.” Because I feel the enormity in this, too.
A car backfires somewhere in the distance, the tyres squealing thanks to a mixture of poor traction and low tyre tread. Under my hands, Kennedy freezes.
“This is a mistake.” She exhales a tremulous breath. She’s not wrong, but only in the timing, I decide, as I cup her cheek. Her lashes fan her cheeks in dark half-moons, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
“Why didn’t you end it, little love?” I checked the marriage records in Nevada enough to know she never filed for an annulment. I thought she would. I thought I’d find her address that way. Maybe I thought I’d marry her again.
“Because you were way down on my list of life’s problems.”
“You were the highlight of my life. What followed was the darkest.”
Her lack of an answer washes over me like a wave of grief. What won’t she ask? Why won’t she tell me?
“I am sorry that you think I’m being unfair. I need to be cautious, Roman. It’s taking me a little while to wrap my head around this.”
“Same.” I stand straight, forcing myself to step away from her. “You’ve no idea,” I add as I rake a hand through my hair. “I’ve missed out on so much. I don’t want to miss out anymore.”
She nods slowly, probably more in understanding than agreement, then slices her dark hair behind her ears, all business now.
“This was a mistake. A result of shock. For us both.”
“Right.” The only shock I suffered was finding out how natural it felt kissing her.
“We have a lot to talk about. I get that things need to be said and plans need to be made.” Her gaze dips before coming up just as quick. “Come over. Tonight. After Wilder has gone to bed.”
“Okay.” I nod solemnly and slide my hands into my pockets. Mainly to stop myself from punching the air. Yes! Fucking yes!
“Not . . .” She moves her forefinger in the air between us. “Not for this.”
Not for this between you and me? Shows what you know, little love. Because I want Wilder, and I want you. You’re just not aware of how persistent I can be.
17
Kennedy
PRESENT
SEXY BUTTERFLIES
No. No. This cannot be happening.
Closing the back door, I lean my forehead against it and groan. I let him kiss me. Worse, I kissed him back. And I sighed, and I wriggled against him and made sex noises!
I don’t know how it happened—
That’s not true, liar pants, because you do. You took one look at him as he’d rounded the corner of the alleyway, his steps long and loose, his eyes fixed on you. Your pulse tripped, and you knew.
The closer he drew, the harder it was to take my eyes off him. I could almost anticipate the scent of his cologne and the salty taste of him at the base of his throat.
I tap my forehead against the door because letting him into the house tonight is the worst idea in the history of worst ideas! If I was willing to kiss him in daylight, in the open air, Lord only knows what I’ll be game for, given a couch and a little ambient lighting. Actually, the Good Lord has no business knowing how far I’ll go. He’s far too heavenly to be thinking such earthly thoughts. But if I know one thing for sure, it’s that no good can come of tonight. Roman and me? We can’t be a thing. Not for five minutes, one evening, one week, or one month. Not if we’re to successfully co-parent for the rest of our lives.
I’ll have to call him.
Put him off.
Change the date? Which isn’t going to go down well, even after the conversation we just had. The serious conversation. The way he looked at me when I said he could come over but not for this was far from contrite. He looked more like the fox who’d just been given the keys to the hen house.
For the second time in as many days, I feel the sudden urge to cluck.