Page 15 of Spicy or Sweet (Wintermore #2)

SHAY

What the hell just happened?

I stare at the open door long after Noelle runs out of the basement, my heart thumping. My body has forgotten how to move, like the feeling of her lips against mine has wiped every other memory clean to set up a permanent spot in my brain.

A gust of wind blows the door until it bangs against the wall, jolting me out of my stupor. I make quick work of packing up my stuff, stopping the B-roll recording on my phone, and locking up the kitchen.

Should I go after her? Reassure her?

I don’t even know what I’d say. And bolting like a bat out of hell is a pretty clear sign that Noelle doesn’t want to talk to me right now.

So I drag my feet across the street and up the stairs to my apartment. Cat is waiting for me, immediately winding between my legs and trying to trip me up. He almost manages, too, since I’m so utterly shaken by the past twenty minutes.

I feed him and drop straight onto the couch, rubbing my face with my hands.

Noelle is the first person I’ve kissed since my ex-husband. She’s the first woman I’ve kissed since before Georgie died. And it was…

Fuck.

I know I’m not straight, obviously. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it since Philippe and I got married, but every time I did, I pushed it down. What was the point in thinking about it when I was married to a man? If anything, I felt guilty when I did.

But I’m not married anymore. Of course, that doesn’t make it okay for me to be thinking about a woman sixteen years younger than me, but… I’m thinking about it.

I’ve never been kissed like that in my life.

It lasted all of five seconds, but her lips were soft but desperate, and her fingers fisted my hair like they’d been doing it forever.

It was a perfect kiss—or it would’ve been, if she hadn’t been so horrified with herself, and if it wasn’t ridiculously fucking inappropriate.

My phone feels like a lead weight in my hand as I unlock it and open my camera roll. I click on the last video and scroll through the B-roll footage, steeling myself before hitting play.

A groan falls from my lips as I watch the kiss.

On camera, it’s quick. One second, she’s hovering in front of me; the next, her hands are clenched in my hair. Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing there, stunned.

I slow the footage and watch it back so many times that I think it would be burned on the back of my eyelids if I could bear to close my eyes.

With every watch, I remember the feel of her, the all-consuming ginger scent of her.

I pick up on the little details: the way her hand flexes a second before she snaps, the way her eyes widen for a brief moment before she turns and runs…

the way she stumbles at the door for all of a split second, like she’s considering doubling back.

That tiny moment of hesitation is what sticks in my head the most.

That’s the moment that has me finally swiping out of the video and opening Locked, where Noelle’s profile is still waiting on my screen.

That’s the moment that, good idea or bad, has me swiping on the big green button and sucking in a deep breath when the words “You’re a Match!” flash up on my screen.