Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(8)
Isaac laughs and takes another step, closing most of the space between us, and his arm cradles my lower back. “So you’re saying you’re a romantic?”
A disbelieving sound bubbles up from the back of my throat. “Hardly.”
He pulls me in closer until we’re pressed up against each other. My hands fall on his upper arms, and my furious heartbeats pound a loud rhythm in my chest.
“If I kissed you now, in front of all these people, would you think it was romantic?” He’s so close I can almost feel his words hit my lips.
Confused, I lean my head back and look to the rain slickened street, where I see nothing but the red and yellow lights of cars driving past. I look the other direction and see what he's talking about.
Behind us, there’s a packed ice cream shop, tables full, and here we are standing in front of the long window. My eyes sweep over all the interested gazes, and my cheeks catch fire.
“Romantic?” Isaac asks when I look back at him.
“Yes,” I breathe the word.
His mouth is on mine before I finish my breath. He pushes me back, past the window, and up against the brick wall that separates the ice cream place from its neighbor.
His hands are in my hair, running down my neck, tracing my collarbone. My fingers skim the muscles in his upper back, cling to his shoulders. I’m feeling things, good things, but my nerves are back, pushing into the rational part of my brain, trying to make a stronghold before I’m swept away by hormones. Is this a bad idea? Am I going to get hurt? I’m still kissing him, but I’m hesitant, and I wonder if he can sense it.
Isaac puts one hand on the back of my head, protecting it from the wall. Sensation takes over, and I feel his desire. It’s hot like a flame, thirsty like a parched throat.
I ache for him in a way I never expected and never wanted.
“I’m not in the mood for ice cream anymore,” I whisper, then pull his lower lip into my mouth and suck on it. He moans into my mouth and pulls back to look at me before diving back in. His kisses are hot and wet and his hand keeps sliding up my stomach and then back down to my waist, like he’s reminding himself where we are. I’m glad he still has some sense because I have almost none right now.
Isaac pulls away, a new smile on his face. This one is lustful, a half curl of one side of his mouth.
My breath is long and loud, dragging, and it clears my mind a tiny bit. “Is this a bad idea?”
Isaac stares at me. With his back to the streetlamp, I can’t see into his eyes. I wish I could, but his eyes are so dark it probably doesn’t matter. I just want to look into them, to see if he’s doubting this like I am.
He takes my hands and squeezes them. “I could use some comfort tonight, and I think you could too. Let’s make a deal. One hour. We’ll give one hour to each other. When one hour is up, you can tell me if you want me to come to your door sometime with something other than flowers. How does that sound?”
“Have you forgotten you’re leaving the country on a long trip?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t have to extend my travel, and by the time I get back you’ll be over the guy who broke your heart.”
I purse my lips and look at him. Knowing he’s leaving makes this decision as safe for my heart as possible. Our ending has already been decided. It’s one hour, for one night, and then it’s over.
My hand wraps around his neck, pulling him in. When my lips are at his ear, I whisper, “I hope your place is close.”
The vibration of his groan grinds against my cheek. He surges forward, pulling me along behind him. Our pace is quick until he stops abruptly and looks back at me. This time the streetlight illuminates his face, and I can clearly see into his eyes. They look hungry.
“I don’t know if one hour with you will be enough for me, Aubrey.” He turns back around and keeps going.
I follow his quick footsteps, fully in the knowledge that one hour is all I have to offer him.
This isn’t about love.
I have none to give.
This isn’t about my heart.
It’s not whole enough to break.
This is about one hour of forgetting, one hour of letting my body rule while my mind shuts off. I’m going to spend one hour with this man.
And then I’m never going to see him again.
I was certain of the outcome before I arrived, but I came here anyway. Hand poised to knock, I blow out my last deep breath. Three quick taps on the door and my hand falls back down to my side.
Hope isn’t what I should be feeling right now, especially when it defies logic, but it’s there anyway. Winding it’s way into my veins, creeping into my heart.
When I’ve stared at the closed door for long enough, I turn to leave.
Isaac can’t answer a door to an apartment he isn’t in.
I had to check. I need to be able to say I tried.
I’m three steps away from the question I already knew the answer to when a door behind me opens.
My stride halts and I freeze. My heart leaps into my throat. He didn’t leave.
“Excuse me? Did you knock on my door?”
It’s a man’s voice, but it’s not the voice of the man I’m foolishly looking for.
Turning around, I nod and take a step closer.
The guy in the doorway is average size and his red hair is pulled into a man-bun. He’s so opposite of the home’s previous tenant that it’s comical.