Page 29 of Booked on You
And God help me, I fully kiss her back, reaching around to place my hand on the back of her neck. Her mouth is warm and sweet from the wine, and the second our tongues slide together, my brain goes static. Scarlett tastes like fire and permission, and I forget every single reason I had for pretending this wasn’t happening with her.
She shifts and sighs into my mouth, and I pull away.
Her eyes blink open, dazed, like she realizes she lost control.
I create some space, placing my hand on her cheek, thumb brushing the softness of her skin.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she says and goes still.
“You shouldn’t have. But you did.” It kills me to watch the flicker of confusion cross her face. I feel the shift in her spine and see her rebuilding whatever walls we just lowered.
“I will ruin your life,” she adds. Her mouth moves into a straight line, like she’s trying not to feel anything at all.
I clear my throat. “I’m capable of doing that myself, thanks.”
“I’m sorry. My last relationship fucked me up. I don’t even know the most basic things about you, like if you’re currently seeing someone.”
“I’m not,” I whisper. “Also, I’m not a cheater. Never have been. Never will be. I’m not casually seeing anyone, either. I’ve got no fucking time for that.”
That makes her smile. It may be small, but it’s real.
“I don’t do one-night stands,” she says. “I’m not that type of girl.”
“I never once thought you were,” I tell her, grabbing her hand. “I’m not in a rush, Scarlett. I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one leaving.”
She nods. “You’re right.”
There’s more distance between us now, but much less than there was before she kissed me.
“You make me want to take risks,” she admits.
“Take them with me,” I urge.
“You don’t understand,” she whispers. “People stalk my relationships, Ezra. I can’t let anyone find out about you.”
“Luckily, I can keep a secret,” I say.
She gulps down the rest of her wine, finishing the glass. “I should leave before this goes too far.”
“I’ll walk you back.”
She doesn’t argue, but we don’t say much as we follow the narrow path to the cottage.
Shit got too real between us.
Scarlett walks close enough for our hands to brush. Touching her so subtly drives me fucking wild.
When we reach the porch, she turns toward me. Her eyes search my face like she’s looking for an answer to a question she hasn’t asked.
“Thanks for dinner,” she offers.
“You’re welcome. We should do it again sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good night, Scarlett.”
“Night.”
