Page 12 of Caring for Cailin

He wants more,the silent voice cheers.He’s been waiting for the right time. And it’s finally here.

The burst of joy is why, before I can think it through, I lean in and kiss him.

And at first, it’s everything I dreamed of.

His lips are soft yet firm, accepting my kiss without being passive about it.

He tastes of mint from the sweet peppermints he snagged on our way out of the restaurant along with a rich, honeyed taste I’ll forever associate with him.

One big hand comes to my nape, then tunnels through my hair, setting off sparks of electricity that shoot through my body.

His other hand rests on my thigh, the heat of it searing through my pants and into my skin.

When I nip at Memphis’s lip, he makes a rough, needy sound. His fingers tighten in my hair; not painfully, but enough to show his desire.

As our kiss continues, a moan works its way up my throat.

My eyes flutter shut.

My body shouts its approval.

Yes,it cheers.Yes. It’s all you hoped it would be and more.

Except.

All too soon, Memphis pulls away from me.

Heart racing, I ask, “Was that okay?”

He stares at me. His expression is tortured.

“It was fine,” he says, but his tone says anything but. “I’m just not sure… I don’t think…” For the first time since I met him, Memphis seems uncertain. “It’s late. I should really get going. Early morning and all that.”

My joy is extinguished in an instant.

He doesn’t want me.

“Oh.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. “Will you still text me when you get back. So I know you’re okay?”

“Of course.” He leans down to tuck my hair behind my ear. “And I’ll look into that guy at the restaurant. Make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He gives my shoulder a little squeeze. “Finish that sandwich. Get a good night’s sleep. And make sure to lock the doors behind me.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling more alone than I have in almost a year. “Be safe.”

Something that looks a lot like guilt darkens his gaze. “You too.”

CHAPTER 3

MEMPHIS

I still can’t get Cailin’s expression out of my head.

My fist comes down on the windowsill with a heavy thunk. “Shit,” I mutter. “When I fuck up, I really fuck up.”

It’s ironic, really. For months, I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss her. I’ve stolen glances at Cailin’s full lips and fantasized about tasting them. I’ve sat beside her, aching to pull her into my arms and to feel the swell of her soft curves pressed against me.