Page 12 of Cold Snap

Teresa

I fight the feelings that well up inside of me.

I have to keep thinking straight and remember why this is not a good thing.

I have to…not give in to him and the things he makes me feel.

Remember what it feels like to be turned away, shut out, because that is where this is going.

Any moment now, he’s going to push me away and tell me he can’t be with me, that we shouldn’t fuck around with one another.

Right now, he’s just mad at me for deceiving him. That’s all this is. Just anger. Once he gets over it, he’ll tell me we can’t be together, and he shouldn’t have kissed me. Again. All I have to do is keep that in mind, and I should be able to fight this…and him.

But, oh, his lips feel good. And when he’s brushing them softly against mine, he gets me all fuzzy-headed. Fuck they are soft. How does a man have such soft, pillowy lips? I could totally become lost in them and the taste of him. Or the scent. God, he smells fucking great.

My hands are unexpectedly free -he must have uncuffed me at some point during the kiss- and somehow those traitorous bitches find their way around his neck. Not that I’m forgetting to keep my space from him. In fact, I’m going to show him exactly what he turned down! That’ll show the bastard!

And it will especially show him when I start kissing him back, using my tongue to explore his mouth. Moaning will definitely prove my point. Whatever my point is.

I give up lying to myself and focus on feeling as I press my body up against his.

He’s so firm where I’m soft, so big where I am…

not. I can barely reach his lips, and only because he’s leaning forward for me.

Until it becomes easier to reach suddenly…

because he’s lifted me up, trapping me between his big body and the wall.

And the only reason I wrap my legs around him is because I don’t want to fall.

I put my hands on his cheeks and delight in the stubble that brushes against my skin. I love men who can rock stubble like Land can. I love how it makes them look a little like a bad boy who doesn’t care what people think of them. I love…Land!

The thought has me pulling away from him so I can look in his beautiful green eyes.

Eyes that I have dreamed about so many nights when I close my eyes are now looking back at me.

We're teetering on the brink of something big, but I don’t have a clue where it’s going to lead. I don’t know what’s ahead.

“Teresa,” he says it softly, but it might as well have been a scream. I brace myself for the cruel words I expect him to say to me. “Why did you lie to me?”

Is this still him being mad at me? Still trying to ferret out the truth?

I put more space between us, or I try to. It’s kind of hard to do when your back is to the wall -literally. So, I give him what he wants.

“I was upset you didn’t know how old I was, especially when I had my eighteenth birthday party here. You brought the cake out.”

I wait for the memory to hit him or for him to tell me he’s brought tons of people's birthday cakes.

“Have you ever been addicted to something?”

My brows draw together in confusion. Where the hell is this going? What kind of question is that? And, yeah, I’ve been addicted to him from the moment I walked into his place and saw him standing behind the bar. For simplicity, I just shake my head.

“How old were you when we first saw one another?”

“Sixteen. Ish.”

“So, you were fifteen.” He laughs.

“I turned sixteen that year. What does that have to do with being addicted?”

“Why don’t you bring that mouth back over her, and I’ll teach you.”

Despite my better judgment, I let him take my mouth again, and this time when our tongues touch, it’s in a hot caress that promises more, so much more.