Page 13 of Same Rogue
Bridger started texting before he even finished his meal. He was sure in a rush to dissolve this. Gah, how girly of her, caring about his every move, and getting her feelings hurt by how fast he wanted to end their pairing. He didn’t even know her. He was helping to take something off her plate while she worked. She should be thanking him, but instead, she felt…she felt…mad at him.
Was it right? No. Could she explain it? Nope. Could she convince herself that she was being dramatic and to be more forgiving. Also no.
She was an emotional little creature around him, and she would have to try and figure that all out later, when she was alone in her hotel room.
Bridger shoved his phone into his back pocket and laid some cash on the table. She made her way around the bar to make change for him, but he put his hand out and said, “Keep it.” And as she stood there in the middle of the restaurant, he left without saying another word to her.
The sound of that closing door was very lonely.
She knew Bridger wasn’t for her, and he wasn’t hers in any way, but she sure liked the way he looked. She liked the tone of his voice, and how good he smelled, and how decisive he was at getting rid of Chase for her.
He left her a hundred-dollar tip, and she shook her head and rolled her eyes, knowing damn well she would give it back to him on the cash app tonight. That was, if she could find an ATM close so she could deposit this.
Out the front window, Bridger walked by, but halted. He stared off toward the parking lot, then yanked off his baseball cap and ran his hand through his short, dark hair. He turned around and headed back for the door but then paused at the edge of where she could see and turned back around. What was he doing?
He put his baseball cap on backward, shook his head hard again and then strode off for the parking lot.
What had that meant? Was he forgetting something?
She would never see him again. That thought struck her.
Had he been wanting to say goodbye?
Go, her wolf urged her.
“Be right back!” she called to Anna, who was near the front door.
Kit bolted out the door and headed for the parking lot. Bridger was about to climb into a big black diesel truck.
“Bridger!” she called, and he froze.
His golden eyes found her, and she ran straight for him.
He stepped toward her, a question hanging on his masculine lips.Don’t think. Just do it.
Kit wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, hugging him tightly.
Bridger stood there completely frozen. She eased out of the kiss and pecked his lips. Pecked them again. Uh oh. He wasn’t moving at all. She pecked his lips again.
Slowly, mortified, cheeks on fire, she lowered down on her heels and let her hands slide from around him to his chest, where she could feel his heart racing like a jack rabbit.
“Figured I should do that while we’re paired.”
His strong chest heaved with his breath, and his fiery gold eyes bore straight into her.
“Sorry,” she whispered. Kit turned to walk away, but an iron grip squeezed her wrist, and he yanked her back around to him.
This time it was his lips that crashed against hers like a hurricane. A helpless whimper escaped her as he lifted her up and drove her right to his truck and pressed her against the back door. His hand was gripping her hair, and his tongue was driving into her mouth, over and over. She grabbed at him desperately, gripping his shirt, his hair in the back, then wrapped her arms around him. There was such an urgency in the way he kissed her. It was volcanos erupting, and waves crashing against rocks, and fire fueled explosions. His grip on her was strong, but the more he grabbed the back of her neck, her hair, her back, her thigh…the safer she felt.
God, had she ever been touched by a man like this? Never that she recalled. Had she ever felt instant chemistry like this? Never.
His hand went to her throat and he pushed her back, settled her onto her feet, and backed away from her fast. She stumbled forward with the absence of his strong frame, but Bridger was already getting into his truck. His window rolled down and he ground out, “I’m sorry,” before he sped out of the parking lot, leaving her standing there numbly, wondering what the hell he’d just done to her body.
Her skin felt tingly, and her insides felt like porridge. She tried to convince her legs to move, but they wouldn’t.
“Kit? Are you okay?” came Anna’s voice from the bar.
“Y-yes. Coming,” she said.
