Meet Me Halfway(84)

He ran his thumb up my chin and glided it over my bottom lip, popping it out from the cage of my teeth. “Your body gives you away, and I can’t resist it.”

He closed the small distance between us, placing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, then the other. His teeth gently gripped my lip, and the moan I released was long and husky.

His reaction was instant. He swallowed the sound, one hand cupping the back of my head while the other snaked around to grip my ass.

He kissed me roughly, passionately, stealing my breath while gifting me his own. I never wanted it to stop, wanted to live in the moment forever, but just as quickly as he’d began, he pulled back. His eyes were hooded, and his chest rose and fell rapidly against me.

He didn’t say a word as he leaned forward one last time and brushed a featherlight kiss to my forehead. And then, just like that, he was gone.

I watched him go, incapable of moving for several minutes, drowning in the feral lust still clawing at my core. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed that to happen, but at the same time, my eyes were begging the door to open. For him to come back.

By the time I left the bathroom, I’d been seated. Twice. The waitress I’d asked to find me had checked for me in the back, but apparently that’s as far as her detective skills had gone. Which was probably a good thing considering what she might’ve seen if she’d found me.

I walked the entire restaurant in between orders, looking for my neighbor turned stealthy stalker, but he was nowhere in sight. If it weren’t for my raging woman boner, I’d have thought I’d imagined him.

Watching a new group scoot into one of my booths, I tipped my head back and sighed, ignoring Nate chuckling behind me. I was so ready for this night to be over. I reached into the right pocket of my apron, searching for a pen since my last table stole my other, when a wad of something at the bottom touched my fingers.

Weird. I kept my cash and notepad in the left pocket, and only my pens on the right. I frowned, pulling it out. It was a roughly folded piece of paper. I had no idea what it might contain, but only one person had been close enough to me to put it there.

There were only four words, written in a familiar, scratchy handwriting.

Stay with me tonight.





My second nemesis of the night stood before me, firm and unyielding, deliberately blocking my path and laughing at me. I glared at it, grinding my teeth. I’d kick it if I didn’t think I’d shatter my kneecap. Motherfucker.

My first nemesis had been easier to conquer. I’d gone home immediately after work, skipping my usual drink with Nate, never more thankful that both Layla and Jamie were already in bed.

I’d tip-toed through the house, conscious of the still-sleeping mutt curled up in my bed. I’d immediately started a slew of soft words when I’d entered my room so she’d know it was me, and that’s when nemesis number one made its appearance.

My clothes.

What was I supposed to wear? Was I supposed to dress sexy because we both knew what would happen if I showed up? Or was that too obvious? Was I supposed to wear what he always saw me in, sweatpants and fuzzy socks? Or was I supposed to show up in my work clothes?

I glanced down, lifting my shirt and giving it a whiff. Yeah, no, that wasn’t happening. I smelled like a basket of buffalo fries dipped in ranch. Delicious? Absolutely. But not the kind of delicious I was going for.

When a man went down on you and peeled your clothes off, you wanted him to say you smelled like flowers, not fucking spicy garlic.

In the end I opted for a quick shower without washing my hair, and my normal sleep clothes—minus the fuzzy socks. Those weren’t sexy no matter how you wore them.

And now here I was, standing on Garrett’s porch, freezing my ass off in a thin top and pajama bottoms, staring at his door. I couldn’t open it or even knock. I’d tried. I had ants crawling all over my nervous system, and my limbs were apparently made of pure lead.

In essence, I was nervous as hell. So, since it refused to open sesame, I was stuck glaring twin holes in it, cursing it like the little bitch it was.

It was the vibration of my phone that finally had me dragging my eyes away from my opponent.

Sugar Daddy: Why are you glaring at my front door?

Me: It’s mocking me. Why are you spying on me through it?





The offending door was pulled open, and the way my mouth instantly dried had me silently apologizing to it, begging it to shut again. Standing right on the other side, giving me the strongest fuck-me gaze I’d ever been on the receiving end of, was Garrett. Sweatpants hanging off his hips, bare feet on the floor, white t-shirt wearing, messy-haired Garrett.

I never stood a chance. I shivered, toying with the hem of my top. “I came.”

Hazel eyes flashed, and his smirk grew, but he said nothing as he stepped to the side and ushered me in. I paused right inside the entry, crossing my arms over my chest and looking around while he latched the door behind me.

“It’s a little trippy to see my house, but backwards.” It was almost an exact mirror of my side, but more bachelor-y. No kid blankets or dog beds, no frames on the walls or stacks of used coffee mugs. It was depressingly empty of life, and I suddenly understood why he’d once said my side felt homey to him.

“What do you use the other two rooms for?”

He circled around toward the bar, “One is a guest room, and the other has my gym equipment.”