Page 37 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

“Are you sure? You and Londyn were together for a long time.”

“I’m sure. Londyn and I were better friends than we were a couple. It was over the day she left.” Karson raised his hand and his fingers sifted into my hair, brushing it away from my ear.

My breath hitched.

Then his mouth was there, hovering over mine. Karson brushed his lips across mine, teasing, and then he pressed in deep, his arms wrapping around my shoulders.

My cup of coffee fell out of my hand, landing on the grass beside our feet. I didn’t care. I didn’t think. Like last night, I just let Karson kiss me.

His tongue ran across my lower lip, and I opened so he could sweep inside. Karson pressed closer, the heat from his body soaking into mine. Our tongues tangled and twisted. Every breathless second was bliss and when he finally broke away, I was lost in the darkened green and gold swirls of his eyes.

Karson wanted me. Me.

“Why?” I hadn’t meant to voice my insecurity, but that damn word had slipped out.

“Why what?”

I closed my eyes and braced. “Are you kissing me because we only have two days left?”

“Clara, look at me.” His fingers tugged on a strand of hair that hung between us. He twirled it around his index finger as I lifted my lashes. “I’m kissing you, wishing I had kissed you two hundred and two days ago.”

I practically slid off the bench as I melted. If not for his arms still around me, I would have joined my coffee as a puddle in the grass. “Really?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips across mine, whispering, “Really.”

The next kiss was a lot like I’d remembered from last night. Fumbling hands. Wet lips. Tentative nips and licks as I learned more about what he liked. What I liked. His coffee was forgotten as we clung to each other, sitting on the park bench, kissing like we were the only people in the world. It was only when the shout of a child rang through the air that we broke apart.

My lips were raw and puffy again. Karson inched away, drawing in a few pained breaths. I ducked my chin to hide a smile because there was a noticeable bulge beneath his jeans.

“Need to go anywhere else?” Karson asked, finally standing from the bench.

“No.” I took his outstretched hand and stood, letting him lace our fingers together. Then we walked, our arms swinging between us, to the car wash. “Do you think all beer tastes like that stuff last night?”

Karson laughed. “Probably.”

“Yuck.” I faked a gag as we rounded the block. “I’ll stick with lemonade, thanks.”

“Same here. With ice. Lots and lots of ice.”

“And ice cream.”

“With chocolate syr—” Karson froze, his tennis shoes slapping to a stop.

“What?” I followed his gaze to the car wash’s parking lot.

And there she was. His mother.

She was in jea

ns and a gray button-down shirt. Her hands waved in the air as she spoke to Karson’s boss, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth glued shut.

But it wasn’t Karson’s mother or his boss that sent a jolt of panic through my veins.

It was the uniformed police officer standing between them who sent my heart into my throat.

The officer looked up and spotted us. He narrowed his gaze and cocked his head. The movement caused Karson’s mother to stop speaking. She turned and her eyes widened. Then her hand was in the air, shaking a pointed finger.

Karson kept a firm hold on my hand as he took a step backward.