“It might get it out of our systems,” I winced.
She snorted. “That is the dumbest thing you’ve said all night. One kiss is going to make us want a whole lot more.”
Things got so tense I just wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the air out of her lungs. The room went quiet. She looked up at me, eyes soft and nervous and brave all at once. Then she whispered, “Fuck it.” And kissed me.
For one second, I didn’t move. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I wanted to so badly, I had to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. Then her hand curled into my shirt, and my control snapped clean in half. I cupped the back of her head and kissed her back. She made a soft sound against my mouth, and I was done. Her lips were warm and sweet, and she tasted likesparkling water and lemon and Catherine. I backed her up one step, then another, until her back hit the wall beside the hallway.
I kept one hand in her hair and the other braced against the wall because if I put both hands on her body, this was over. She kissed like she had been holding herself back for too long.
Like she was tired of talking, tired of reasons, tired of pretending. Her hands slid up my chest, over my shoulders, into my hair, and I groaned because apparently, I had no dignity left.
“Hunter,” she whispered against my mouth.
That almost ended me.
I kissed her again, slower for half a second, then deeper with her pressed against my wall in that soft yellow sweatshirt, her mouth opening under mine like she wanted everything I was trying not to give her. My hand found her waist. Her skin was soft and warm through the fabric, and my thumb slid under the edge of the sweatshirt before I could stop myself. She shivered. I pulled back like I’d been burned.
“Shit.” My breathing was wrecked. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked up at me, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. Then she laughed.
“You’re apologizing? I kissed you.”
“I kissed you back,” I reminded. “Catherine.”
“What?” she asked with bee-stung lips I wanted to taste all over again.
“I need you to leave before I forget why this is a bad idea,” I said, and I licked my lips so I would feel the taste of her there.
Her smile softened, and that somehow made me want her more.
“Yeah,” she said.
I stepped back, even though every part of me hated it.
She smoothed her sweatshirt, which did absolutely nothing because her lips were still swollen and her hair was a mess and I knew damn well I looked worse. We walked to the doorin silence. I opened it for her because I was a gentleman. A gentleman with a hard-on and barely functioning morals, but still. She stepped into the hall and turned back.
“Dinner was nice. Thank you,” she said.
“Go before I pull you into my bedroom.”
She laughed softly and walked to the elevator.
I stood in my doorway like an idiot while she pressed the button. When the doors opened, she stepped inside and looked back at me.
“Good night, Hunter.”
My name in her voice after that kiss was cruel.
“Good night, Catherine.”
The doors closed. I stayed there for a long second, staring at nothing.
Then I shut my door, leaned back against it, and let my head hit the wood. Now every reason she was a bad idea had a serious fucking problem. Because I knew what she tasted like.
CHAPTER 11
Catherine Celia