Page 11 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)

Abby

I take Dax’s hand and lead him to the emerald chaise lounge, then push him back so he lands on the springy green velvet behind him.

“Sit,” I say.

He bounces up off the lounge to stand in front of me again.

“I prefer to stand,” he says, darkly.

“Suit yourself,” I say, not exactly upset that he’s already taking control.

Dax wraps one hand around the back of my neck, encircling my waist with his other, then pulls me into him until I’m sure our lips are about to touch.

I close my eyes and wait for him to meet me the rest of the way, not quite believing that I had the incredible luck to run into him again this morning. I’m rarely lucky in life, but today proves otherwise.

I melt a little in his arms, waiting for his kiss. Anxious for his hot breath to hit my lips.

We’re really about to do this .

Come what may.

Any minute now.

We are about to . . . kiss, aren’t we?

Aren’t we?

I don’t feel his lips, though. In fact, I don’t feel his breath getting any closer to mine than it was a fraction of a second ago, even though it’s been long enough that he should have made it there by now.

I squint my eyes and tilt my head to the side, primed and ready for some serious action, but just a few inches away from mine, his hazel eyes are open.

Wide open.

And they’re dancing, like an electric samba has taken off and I’m the last in the room to know.

The hazel-green of his irises catch the city lights streaming through the window, and I’m transported back to a thousand memories of them glowing in the light of the stars between the slats of his cheap university window blinds, as he hovered above me.

Except in every one of those memories, he’s actually kissing me by now.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“I know we haven’t seen each other in forever, and I know we live on opposite sides of the country, but I want this — whatever’s about to happen — to mean something to you. At least for tonight.”

A familiar lump lodges itself in my throat.

First, the hug in the coffee shop, and now this, catapulting raw emotions back into my life. Emotions I’d otherwise never let myself get caught up in. Emotions that should stay locked away and buried where liking someone can’t turn into something that feels more like hate.

He pushes my hair back, studying my eyes while I grapple with what he’s saying.

That this is more than just a trip down memory lane for him.

It feels like closing the loop on years of memories — and feelings — we’ve both had, but only one of us will admit to.

It feels like a movie scene, something I’ve watched two actors do on screen thousands of times, but it is happening to me right now, makes my insides twist. Hard.

His words hang between us. A dare for me to tell him he’s wrong, or that nothing in me feels anything for him. Now, or ever.

“That’s a big want,” I whisper, leaning closer to his lips, hoping he’ll let me stop all the thoughts from coming out of his mouth with a kiss.

I let him take my chin and bring my face back up into his until . . .

Fuck .

There it is. He sees right through me when he looks at me like that. Always.

All those ugly parts I tried hiding from him in some dark corner of myself now stand in front of him, arms wide out, head thrown back beneath a spotlight.

He wraps his hand through my hair, pulling me in.

A silent agreement on where this is going.

I dissolve into his arms when his lips finally find mine.

Turning me into a puddle of liquid while every concern I have left drowns beneath his kiss.

I open my lips to him more as he wraps his palms behind the curve of my neck, heating my skin, pulling me deeper into his kiss, holding me so tenderly that my breath catches in my throat before I allow myself to inhale him.

Again. Remembering the rhythm of his tongue, the taste of his mouth as it opens to explore mine.

Gently, so fucking gently , as if he’s afraid I might not be willing to go where he wants to take me.

But I am.

I let myself get lost in his kiss until I forget where I’m standing, consumed by the tidal wave of old memories crashing through me.

As if the dam I built around his memory is bursting, devouring me, water filling every crevice like a maze until there’s nothing left to hold onto.

A montage of moments strung up between us, like flashes behind my eyes of nights buried under his sheets, all sweat and throbbing hearts, damp skin and decisions I never want to forget.

His movements grow more urgent until he stops kissing me, then presses his forehead into mine, our breaths matching pace as neither of us makes a move to leave this exact spot in the room.

“Okay,” he says, breathing heavily into the air between us.

He kisses me again; except this time it feels more like a soft landing than a launch.

“Okay?” I repeat, unsure if that kiss just undid everything in him, like it did me.

“Okay,” he says, relief filling his voice.

I sigh and drop my head back, then lean in for another kiss. I’m hardly sure that one night back in Dax’s arms is something I can handle. Especially since there’s only one way that opening myself up to someone like him can end.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” I ask, closing my eyes, allowing his kiss to find me again.

Wondering if Dax had been right all along, if he really should have just noticed me standing at the coffee shop and walked back out again, not even attempting to open back up this thing between us. Like a moth drawn to the flame.

“No,” he whispers. I can feel him smiling against me. “But we can clean this mess up tomorrow.”

I nod in agreement. Knowing tonight we have to let it be made.