“I don’t know if it’s all that healthy that I’m attracted to you,” I admit finally. “I’ve never been attracted to a bad boy before.”
He is so close to me that his proximity is a bit intoxicating. I feel almost dizzy from it as I stare up at him, waiting for his response. It also seems as though I can feel the danger emanating from him . . . it’s charged, electrical, fascinating.
Pax thinks on it for a moment, his jaw covered in day-old stubble.
“Well, I’ve never wanted to be good before, so I guess it’s a first for both of us.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for what seems like forever.
I don’t know if I should believe him, but he seems so sincere. I do know that I want to believe him, even if it’s a stupid feeling.
I don’t know what to say and apparently, he doesn’t either.
Without a word, he ducks his head and his lips meet mine.
It is as unexpected as it is amazing.
His lips are soft and he tastes like mint. Gone is the taste of ashtray and vomit. Gone is the limp man from the other night, the one who convulsed on the pavement. In his place is someone vibrant and alive, someone who smells delicious and is devastatingly sexy.
Someone who is bad for me.
His tongue delves softly into my mouth and I fight the urge to sigh into his. His hands grip my back and I don’t know when they got there, but I lean into his embrace, clutching his waist. I revel in the way his fingers knead at my skin, at the firm pressure he places against me, at the hard rigidity pressed against my hips. It’s dizzying.
When I finally need to breathe, he pulls away.
I am shaky from the kiss, from his absence from me. From the idea that I enjoyed that way too much.
I look up at him.
He looks down at me.
He’s waiting for a reaction and I’m not sure what to do. The kiss was perfect. Pax is sexy as hell. But he’s so different from me. And he just got a blow job from someone else. The vision of that horrible girl on her knees in front of Pax springs into my head and I cringe. He could very definitely hurt me if I give him the chance. I’ve already had enough pain in life. I don’t need more.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I finally say reluctantly. And the words are so very hard to say.
The warm light dims in Pax’s eyes as he stares at me and I see the disappointment in them, the rejection, before he hardens it into a cool expression that makes me want to weep.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says calmly. “Because I think it’s a very good idea. The best I’ve had in a long, long time.”
He turns around and walks away, out of my shop.
Away from me.
Without another word.
I watch his wide shoulders as he walks away, out of my sight.
Then I sink to my knees right in the middle of my shop. My hands are shaking and my head is spinning.
What did I just do?
Am I insane? I met someone who made me feel something for the first time in the two years since my parents died, and I’m too chicken-shit to pursue anything?
I reach for my phone and call my sister. I speak before she even has a chance to.
“I’m ready for that drink tonight.”
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