And hell! The taste of her. The feel of her soft lips against his, then her tongue as she’d opened to him and allowed him to slip inside. She’d trembled in his arms as he’d trembled at her every touch. His mind had filled with fire, with light and heat, and he couldn’t think beyond that moment.
Then she’d stiffened and pushed away and the fire had turned to bitter ash.
He scraped his hand over his chin and swore as the fresh bandages snagged on the bristles. ‘Shit.’ Had he hurt her? Did she show signs of his manhandling her? Should he go check on her? But where had she gone? He didn’t think she would go back out to the party. No, if he knew her at all, she would seek out a space for herself, to think, to be alone. She didn’t seem to mind her own company at all.
Completely opposite to him. He hated to be alone, to be caught with his thoughts. He didn’t used to be that way. Just another change ever since he’d lost Anna.
He slid off the bed, annoyed at the jelly-like quality of his legs, the tingling sensation skating over his skin from where he could still feel the echo of her touch. Shake it off, Flynn. Go make sure she’s okay and promise never to touch her again.
The door to the family space was slightly ajar, confirming his belief she’d gone upstairs.
He jogged up the stairs and went straight to her room. He’d helped Reid and Mac carry the beds and furniture up here, so he knew which one was hers.
She stood by the window, staring out at the bush, at the sun turning the blue-tinged hills silvery as it lowered itself towards the horizon. Sunset was hours away, thank god. He hated that time of day when the land turned orange and pink, and his chest would tighten, his skin tingle with the crawl of ants until the orange and pink turned to lilac and then the deep, dark purple of night and he could breathe once more.
He shook his head. He didn’t want to think of that now. He needed to keep his mind clear of the fears that bound him and make amends with Prita. Try to make her understand how much of a mistake the kiss was. How sorry he was. Beg her to forget it. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend.
‘Prita.’
She didn’t jump at the sound of his voice, as if she’d known he was there. Instead, she dipped her head, turning slightly to look over her shoulder before turning back to the view.
‘Prita, we need to talk.’
She sighed and then, after a long moment, turned to face him. ‘No. No, we don’t.’
He took a step into her room, but she shifted, her hands coming up a little in front of her, almost defensive. The move stabbed him in the chest, in the heart. Did she fear him? Maybe she had a reason to. He had no idea what was in her past. Why she was alone the way she was. It had always struck him as strange that someone so amazing wasn’t already married or at least with someone, and yet, she was doing the single mother thing and had never so much as indicated there was anyone in her life apart from Carter. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
He gestured, at a loss for words to explain the depth of what he was sorry for. ‘The kiss.’
She waved her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
He frowned. Her words were easy, but there was something about the way she held her mouth, the set of her shoulders, that told him she wasn’t as cool about it as she was trying to appear. ‘I am worried about it. It shouldn’t have happened.’
‘No. It shouldn’t. But it did.’
‘Yes and—’
She held up her hand. ‘Let’s forget it, okay?’
‘Yes, definitely.’ He breathed out, a rushing sigh of relief. ‘It shouldn’t have happened. It was a huge mistake.’
She jerked, as if slapped, but her face stayed placid as she said stiffly, ‘I feel the same.’
Damn it! He hadn’t meant that to come out the way it had. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s okay. I understand. It was a mistake. So let’s forget it and move on, okay? Friends?’
She held out her hand, the set of her shoulders stiff, determined, her gaze daring—although, he wasn’t certain if she was daring him or daring herself. He closed the distance between them and took her hand in his. Her fingers contracted, their gazes met.
‘Friends,’ he said, even though what was happening at that merest of touches was anything but friendly. He knew he should break contact, step away, leave her be, but he couldn’t. The feel of her hand in his, the way her fingers contracted slightly, her thumb moving over his skin, the way her gaze clashed with his, held, her scent as it reached out to him, cinnamon and spicy, it sent a shot of fire through him and straight down into his groin. He wanted to pull her forward again, into his arms, press his lips against the plumpness of hers and have her open to him, sinking into her like she was air, the blood that fired through his veins and pumped through his heart. His cock thickened in his shorts.
He dropped her hand like he’d been burned.
Christ! He was no randy teenager with a crush. Why was he reacting like one?
She stared at him, her chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths.
‘I think you should go.’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t move.
She took a step forward. That one step, it was the gravitational force of the sun and
