Survivor (First to Fight #2)(40)

“You came to me,” he says and I blink up at him.

“I…what?”

“When you thought I was hurt, when you needed someone to be there for you. You came to me.”

“Don’t read into it,” I say, shrinking back against the wood posts. Oh God, I don’t know what I’m going to do if he touches me. I both fear and crave his touch and the warring needs cause my breathing to go uneven.

He notices the hitch in my chest, damn him, and those unfathomable eyes darken. He moves even closer now and my eyes flutter closed, the sight and feel of him is simply too much for me to process.

“I thought it was something I did. Something I said that ran you off. That I’d gotten too serious with you. Pushed you too far.”

I shake my head, aching for everything I ever did to hurt him. “It was never you.”

A hand cups my cheek and he waits until I open my eyes. “It was always you,” he says, before he touches his lips to mine.

It lasts the barest of seconds, but it’s enough for his groan to weaken my knees and his tongue to slip into my mouth with unerring accuracy. His taste floods my system, intoxicating me, throwing me back to every other kiss we shared just like this. His careful touches and plundering licks undue me, steal my senses.

He ends the kiss first, pulling away with both hands on my shoulders. When I manage to force my eyelids to cooperate, I blink rapidly to clear the haze from my vision. Two smirking teenage boys fill my vision. I panic, throwing my hands up to push Jack away, but he doesn’t budge.

“Jack,” I hiss, shoving at him.

“Sofie,” he says back. Then he looks at the two of them. “Need something?”

I look at him, eyes wide. Is he crazy? How can he be so calm?

They share a smile, then Rafe says, “We ran out of toothpaste.”

Narrowing my eyes, I point to my bathroom. They both back away with a couple elbows to each other’s ribs and smiles stretched a mile wide. I manage to keep my reaction under control until they make their way back upstairs.

“You can’t do stuff like that!”

“Do what?” he says, eyes smiling. My gaze drops down to his lips and I suck in a breath when I notice they’re still red from our kiss.

I tear my eyes away. “You know what.”

“Watch me,” he says, then leaves me staring after him. He double checks the locks on the doors and grabs a few things the boys missed on their way through, then throws them in the trash. When he comes back to the stairs, I’m still standing there with what I’m sure is a dumb look on my face.

“You okay?” He wraps one strong hand around my wrist and pulls me free from my stupor.

Shaking myself, I nod and ease my wrist from his grip. “Perfectly fine.”

“You looked stunned for a minute there,” he says, looking way too pleased with himself.

I open my mouth to respond but find I’m at a loss for words. With a frustrated growl, I stalk by him to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Prowling around the room, my heart still racing, I can’t quite seem to wrap my head around what happened.

Then I realize he’s probably not going to let a door stop this conversation we’re supposed to be having, so I gather up some clothes, I don’t even see them as my shaking hands pick them out of the drawers, and lock myself in the bathroom.

I strip, tossing my clothes in the general direction of the hamper and getting under the hot spray, hoping it will help clear my mind. The best thing to do right now is to go out there and explain to him we can’t go down this road again. He has to know that. How can he even want me after I left him? Especially not after what I told him.

It was just the circumstance, I decide. The emotional rollercoaster of the past few days caught up with him and he got carried away in the moment. Even I have to admit it’s hard not to fall in old patterns, being back here in my childhood room when things were so much easier and happier.

I rinse out the shampoo, slather on conditioner and feel like a new person. I’ll get out of the shower, thank him for being here for me when I needed him, and we’ll both get on with our lives. Sure, we’ll see each other around town, in one the size of Nassau that’s inevitable, but we can be grown up about it.

As I step out and wrap my head in a towel, I push the thoughts of what it would be like to watch him get married and have a family out of my mind. I’ll deal with that when it happens, even if I’d rather walk through glass barefoot.

I dry off and get dressed in a pair of shorts and a matching tank-top. They were cute on the rack, but I stare at them in horror in the fogged reflection in the mirror.

In my haste to get away from Jack, I couldn’t have picked a more revealing outfit. The shorts barely cover my ass and I forgot a bra, or even a camisole, to put under the tank-top. If I walk out there it’s going to be like putting on an advertisement.

I bang my head softly against the mirror.

“Sofie?” he calls from the other side of the door. “You okay?”

My head shoots up and knocks against the overhead shelf. “Shit,” I whimper, cradling my head in my hands. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say to Jack. “You can let yourself out,” I add for good measure.

“Not gonna do that,” he replies.

More concerned about his words and my head than my clothes, I open the door. Steam billows out behind me as I step through. “What do you mean you’re not gonna do that?” I take a cautious step forward, still holding the towel on my head and nursing the sore spot.