Page 73 of Set It Right
He laughed and held his hand out. “You go first.”
I stopped, turning to face him. “I was going to ask what you’re doing the rest of the day.”
His mouth hitched. “I was going to tell you I promised to help my granddad with a project, so I should probably get going.” His eyes drifted down my body. “Is your tattoo feeling okay? Did you apply more ointment when you woke up?”
Brushing aside my disappointment, I nodded. “It’s fine, and yes, I did. I want it to heal well, so I intend to follow all Giselle’s instructions.”
“Good. That’s good.” He scuffed his toe in the dirt. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m meeting with Phoebe, Hannah, and Alice later to plan the booth for the market.”
His eyes flared. “They’re really putting you to work, huh?”
“They are, but they’re going to be sorely disappointed if they expect me to craft.” I laughed and shrugged. “I’m looking forward to hanging out with them and doing something for the town.”
“They’ll make it fun and painless.”
When he glanced away, I stepped forward, my toes hitting his. His breath caught, and he turned back to face me, a brow lifting. I pressed my palms to his chest, feeling his heart jump.
I wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
“Was last night a one-time thing, or can I kiss you before you go?”
Cormac’s expression shifted so fast I almost missed it. His brows lifted, mouth parting like I’d knocked the wind out of him, then something heated slid in from behind.
His hands settled on my waist, drawing me closer.
“Zara,” he said quietly, my name rough in his throat.
I held his gaze. “I don’t want it to be one time. It’s up to you.”
His fingers tightened at my hips, and he walked me backward until my shoulders hit the door. His body followed, caging me in, and his breath came hard.
“Do you actually believe I’ve been able to think about anything else since last night?”
My pulse stuttered.
“Cormac—”
He kissed me, and there was nothing tentative or unsure about it.
His mouth moved against mine with the kind of urgency that stole the air from my lungs. I fisted my hands in his T-shirt, pulling him closer, needing his weight. His hand slid up my side, careful when it brushed near my tattoo and firm everywhere else, fingers splaying to cover more of me.
I tilted my head, deepening the kiss, and he groaned low in his chest. His thigh pressed between mine, and I gasped into his mouth, the sensation sharp and sweet and overwhelming.
I took a moment to acknowledge how natural this was. There was nothing awkward or wrong about kissing this man I’d known all my life. Every time our mouths touched, I only wanted more.
Kissing Cormac Kelly was another extension of our connection. Maybe this had been inevitable; we’d just needed it to be the right place and the right time.
Everything faded with his mouth on mine. I had no idea how many minutes had passed. There was only the scrape of his stubble against my skin, the steady slide of his lips over mine,the way his hands kept adjusting, like he couldn’t settle on just one place to touch me.
Finally, he pulled back enough to breathe, his forehead dropping to mine, his chest rising and falling hard against my palms.
“Zara,” he said again, but this time, it sounded like a warning.
“Cormac.” I smiled against his lips. “You should come in.”
His eyes opened, dark and wrecked. “I want to, sweetheart. God, do I want to. But I can’t. Not today.”
