I snorted at that last bit, even though my brain skidded at that “gorgeous” comment. “I really don’t.”
But he wasn’t done. “I thought that maybe they’d take me seriously for once. Stop acting like I don’t matter.” His gaze had traveled down to his shoes, and he kicked his heel into the floor.
“Fuck them,” I said fiercely. I joined him at the window, grasping his arm. “You matter,” I said. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” But his smile looked forced. “I should have filled you in on my cousin the asshole. But I . . .” He broke eye contact and his gaze traveled up to the ceiling. “What was I supposed to say, ‘By the way, I’m the family meatball and they all think I’m a loser’？” The laugh he gave was hollow, and it hurt to hear. This wasn’t the Mitch I knew. For all that he said his self-esteem was fine, it was still something that could be broken. And I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“You’re not a meatball.” I shook his arm to get his attention, making him look at me again. But when he did, I wasn’t prepared. His eyes, so freaking blue. I’d seen his eyes countless times since we’d started hanging out, but right now, right here, they were mesmerizing. I wanted to crawl inside of them. I wanted to drown in that ocean of blue.
“Yeah,” he said again. He blew out a long breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair, shaking off the rest of those bad feelings. “Seriously, I see these people once, maybe twice a year. I don’t lose a lot of sleep worrying if they like me.” Now his smile was more genuine; the Mitch I knew was coming back to the surface. “I like me, and that’s what matters, right?”
I had to smile at that. Mitch’s favorite person had always been Mitch, but that self-confidence was armor, something he pasted over some deep hurt. Deeper than I’d realized. Maybe even deeper than he’d realized. “I like you too.” My voice was low, throaty.
“I know.” He stepped closer to me, crowding me a little, but in the best possible way. “And thanks. No one’s ever stuck up for me before. I usually have to stand up for myself.”
“Well, get used to it. I stand up for the people I—” I barely managed to close my mouth before I finished that dangerous sentence. This wasn’t a conversation I was used to having. I kept to myself. I was all I needed. Hell, it was only three years ago that my own sister and I had started building a relationship. And now I was here in a strange town, in a strange hotel room with . . . let’s face it, the most attractive man I could possibly be stuck in a strange hotel room with, about to tell him how I really felt about him. I was way, way out of my depth here.
“I know. Hey . . .” His voice was low, and there was a rasp to it that I’d never heard before. He moved his arm, letting my hand slide down his forearm, over his wrist, until he caught my hand in his. “I know.”
He looked at our joined hands, then back up at me. The air between us had become charged, and I knew what was about to happen. I could stop it. I should stop it. I should drop his hand, step back, and make a snarky joke. I shouldn’t want this.
But I did. So when his other hand came up to cup my cheek I moved even closer, into his space this time. He caught his breath when I did. “You’re not skipping brunch tomorrow.” The rasp in his voice became gravel, and it sent a prickle of heat down my spine.
“Are you sure?” I wasn’t even paying attention to what I was saying. All my senses were caught up in Mitch, in how close he was. How solid. How warm.
He nodded and leaned into me, his eyebrows rising in a silent question. I nodded back, answering, and we weren’t talking about brunch anymore. We weren’t talking at all. My name was a whisper of breath a moment before his mouth closed over mine. Tentative, gentle. Warm. Confident, but not aggressive. He was testing me. Letting me make the decision. I knew that even now, if I changed my mind, said no, he would have backed off without complaint.
But I had no intention of saying no. Time didn’t exist here in this hotel room. Real life wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. For now, I didn’t have to be a mom. I didn’t have to be anyone, or anywhere but in this man’s arms.
I rose onto my toes and plunged my fingers into his hair, deepening our kiss. My decision was made.
Ten
I thought I was used to Mitch. We’d spent time together since he and Emily had become friends. He was a tactile guy, and I’d become accustomed to his touch: his arm thrown around me at Jackson’s when he chased off that guy in the gray suit. That brief press of his fingertips at the small of my back when we were in a crowd.
I thought I was ready for Mitch. He’d kissed me before. Hell, he’d kissed me that day, in the backyard after the touch football game. He was a good kisser, that was for sure. So when I reached for him, blatantly asking for more, I thought I knew what I was getting into.
I was wrong. He’d been holding back. And I was about to find out how much.
He made a startled sound in his throat as I pressed closer, harder, nipping at his top lip with my teeth. But he recovered fast: he cupped my head in one large hand, steering the kiss, drinking me in. His other arm slid around my back, pulling me into his body. He was so tall, so broad, so present, that it didn’t take long to feel completely consumed by him. Dominated.
My whole world had spiraled down to nothingness, a place that only contained him and me and this room. He spun us, pressing me against the wall next to the window. His growl of frustration rumbled against my chest, a shiver breaking across my skin. Before I could react he’d lifted me against him; my back hit the wall and my legs wrapped around his hips like it was something we did all the time. How could someone that much taller, that much bigger, fit against me so well?
He rocked against me, using the wall as leverage, and I broke our kiss with a moan. I squirmed against him, the heat between my legs pulsing, seeking out the hardness between his. God, it had been so long. So. Damn. Long.
“April.” My name was a groan, and he pressed a hand flat on the wall next to my head. “We . . . are you sure you want to do this?”
I’d never heard my laugh the way it sounded now. Rough. Desperate. “Are you kidding me? I’m not exactly playing coy here.”
He laughed too, and God, he was gorgeous when he did. A smile like noontime sunshine and eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’m just saying . . .” He leaned in and kissed me again, slowly now and leisurely, his tongue lingering and thorough like we had all the time in the world to do nothing but this. “This is kind of above and beyond our agreement.”
“That’s okay . . .” My smile turned into a gasp as his mouth moved across my jaw and to my throat. “Weekend’s not over yet. You still need a girlfriend.”
“I really do.” His mouth against my skin muffled his voice, and I shivered when his tongue found that place at the side of my neck that melted me. I’d forgotten all about that spot. “Hmmm. You like that?” He did it again, tongue stroking, teeth nipping, and I let my head fall back to thud against the wall.
“I like all kinds of stuff,” I managed. My breath shuddered in my lungs. “I haven’t . . . it’s been a while, you know? So it’s all . . .”