Page 97 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
But her fist grips my shirt at the center of my chest, holding me in place. Her eyes are pleading, not a trace of humor or distance in them. I feel the shaking words against my lips as she whispers, “Please don’t stop.”
It unlocks me.
As I catch her mouth with mine again, every moment we’ve spent apart fuses us back together.
But I don’t want to rush this. I kiss her slower. Deeper. She tastesbetter than I remember. My fingers tangle into the thick tresses of her hair, and she melts against me, bringing her mouth to mine again and again.
We fall back onto the bed, into each other. We’ve resolved almost nothing, but part of me—most of me—doesn’t care right now. All I know is the more open she is with me, the more desperate I am to get closer. Especially when she breaks away and her words, “I missed you,” come out as a tremulous murmur against my skin.
I drag my thumb across her bottom lip in pure awe that this is actually happening.
“Me too,” I rasp. “So fucking much.”
I press a kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder and continue the path up her neck. Her fingertips play with the hem of my ridiculousBOP TIL YOU DROPshirt I can’t believe I’m still wearing, and I finally wrench the thing off. My pants are next, and hers, too. She slides her warm palms down my chest, my stomach. I tremble under her touch.
Our lips meet again, and this time, there’s no shred of caution. Every part of me remembers what she likes, how else we fit.
The need between us grows, and I firm my grasp against the small of her back. Her responsive arch has me bunching the fabric of her shirt in my fist. I think of the ink I saw on her skin at the hot springs, hungry to see it.
My breathing goes ragged when she wraps her legs around me, leaving no space between us. I get a strong grip on her waist, drawing her hips flush under mine. Her hands travel and—Jesus—all thoughts cease when she touches me like that. I suck in a breath as she nips at my mouth.
I’m about to tug her shirt clean off when we both freeze at the sound of footsteps followed by a hard knock at my bedroom door.
“Reid? You up?” It’s my dad. Ofcourseit’s my dad.
I press my forehead to Clara’s and let out a slow exhale.
“Yeah,” I say evenly, so he doesn’t open the door to check. To find the girl he’s convinced is a bad influence half naked beneath me.
At least I resist the urge to say,I sure am.
Like she can read my mind, Clara stifles a laugh with her hand. I widen my eyes at her playfully, my face on full fire.
“Good. We have the Legacy Brunch this morning, and I figure we should go for a real trail run before that. Coach Carr can’t be happy about you taking so many days off.”
Fuck.
“Um, yeah—okay.” I slide off Clara. The humor drains in an instant, replaced by dread and a heaviness I can’t name.
“Great! Ten minutes?”
“Yep.”
I wait until his footsteps disappear down the hall, and my body has calmed down enough to stand.
The silence between me and Clara is awkward and unsure. Her bare legs are out of the covers, her dark hair is wild in a way that has me clenching my jaw, wishing we could’ve finished what we started.
But wanting each other was never the problem. It was this part. In the quiet spaces. It’s where she’s tenser. More guarded. And now I am, too.
I push my hands through my hair and start hunting for some running clothes.
“Are you seriously going to go run?” Clara asks. “On your knee like that? After everything you just told me?”
“I have to.”
“You don’t. Talk to him,” she says.
I shake my head. It’s not fair to put this kind of stress on him. The second I tell him about my injury, he’ll pounce on it like it’s a project.
