Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(48)

Joss released my wrists and wrapped her arms around my neck, her breasts pressing against my chest as we leaned into each other. She held me so tightly and kissed me with such delightful, unpracticed intensity, like she was a champagne bottle that had finally been uncorked.

"Joss," I whispered into her neck, kissing her underneath her jaw.

At the sound of my voice, muffled by her skin, she stilled, carefully pulling back so she could look at my face. Her hair was a mess, probably because of my fingers digging into it, and her lips were pink and puffy, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

"Whoa," she whispered, touching the tips of her fingers to her mouth.

I dropped my forehead to hers and exhaled, which sounded unsteady even to my own ears. Smoothing my hands up and down her back, I simply breathed her in, something clean and sweet and her.

"Pretty much."

Joss lifted her head and stared at me, her eyes were curious and careful. "You really wanted to kiss me that badly?"

I spoke on a laugh. "Yeah. I've wanted to kiss you that badly since the day I met you."

Her face fell. "You're joking."

"Why would I joke about that?" I asked.

"You've … you … for five years?" She gasped. "There's no way."

My eyebrows popped up. "Trust me, I'm not lying to gain brownie points right now."

She shook her head. "Levi, you're my best friend," she said, like it was all the explanation necessary.

Something dark and huge opened in my stomach. The worst-case scenario I always worried about, like a weed sprouting up between us. "I know. And you're mine. Those things are not mutually exclusive, Joss."

She laughed unsteadily and pushed backward on the seat, adding space between us. "Come on, be serious."

"I am being serious." My voice was firm because I wanted her to know how real and true this was for me, but inside, inside, I felt the cold brush of panic at her reaction.

If there was one thing I knew about her, knew about this woman who I loved so desperately, it was that she could burrow into her safety net and mute the feelings that would only serve to make her feel worse. Her kiss told me everything I needed to know, that she felt exactly what I wanted her to feel, but I knew how capable her brain was at shutting off the feelings that scared her.

With a flick of her wrist, she'd slide the lock into place, and that had my brain whirring furiously at how I should handle this.

Her breathing picked up again, quick and panicky and furiously paced. "There's no way," she said again. "There's no way you've been sitting back for five years. There’s no way you'd want to deal with what this would do to your life."

As she said it, she looked down at her legs, then back up again. I damn well knew what she meant, and given how well she knew me, it was a bullshit excuse.

It was the most convenient thing she could grasp at, and that alone stoked the tiny flames of frustration inside me.

I leaned in until we were practically nose to nose. "Ask me, Joss."

She pinched her eyes shut. "I'm scared to."

All the times I worried about not pushing too hard, Sylvia's question about whether I tiptoed around her feelings because of what happened to her, they all thundered ominously in my head, and I knew, I knew this was no time to back down.

"Ask me how long I've felt like this," I pleaded, my hands itching to pull her into my arms again.

"I can't," she whispered and frantically fumbled for the door handle behind her.





Chapter 17





Jocelyn





If I stopped to think about what I was doing, I would've moved more slowly. Been more thoughtful about my foot placement, or the fact that I was wearing heels.

"Jocelyn," he called out when I gripped the handle on the roof of his truck and swung my legs over.

Out. I had to get out.

I couldn't ask, because if I asked, I'd know. And if I knew, it might make me think back on the five years through a lens that all of this was a giant, huge fake.

Levi was already opening his door when I slid down the seat, which was what made me look over my shoulder at him. I didn't pay attention to where my foot was landing until my ankle slipped to the side, and my other foot caught on the step up into the truck.

I cried out, my hand gripping the handle as tight as I could manage as my legs slid out from under me. My other hand came up to grasp blindly at the door handle.

"Shit, Joss, hang on," he yelled as he sprinted around the truck to me.

I felt awkward and weak and pathetic, my legs dangling helplessly, twisted up like a pretzel. And I felt irrational. Manipulated. Lied to. Like everything we'd been through was fake. Contrived.

Even though I tried to breathe myself out of the tight, snapping squeeze of panic wrapping around my lungs, I couldn't.

I felt his hands on my back, and I tensed up.

"Don't," I snapped. "Please don't help me right now."

My forehead pressed against my forearm, and any tears I'd held back before hit my cheeks with hot strikes, little lashes of the most acute embarrassment. My hands tightened, and I pulled up as hard as my arms could manage in their awkward placement.

With a quick glance down at my legs, I straightened them as well as I could, quads and glutes shaking. I heard the bounce of wheels hit the ground, and my chair appeared behind me. Silently, Levi clicked the locks into place.