Page 105 of Get A Fix

“Now tell me why that is, Cooper.”

“Come closer.”

“Not until you say it,” he insisted, looking so pleased with himself, standing there just out of reach, spinning the umbrella.

“Maybe,” I husked, “I look good because you’re with me.”

“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s the difference.”

“Not your reflected glow?” I teased.

“No. It’s because you’re so happy to be with me.”

“You think?”

He nodded slowly.

“C’mere.”

“Cooper,” he whispered.

He was so beautiful there in the rain, his strong jaw, chiseled features, his dark brows, and the way his lashes brushed his now flushed cheeks. I had the urge to press my mouth to the dappled pinkening of his skin on his throat and took a step forward, but then stopped, remembering where we were.

I saw him catch his breath, swallow, then lick his lips in rapid succession. He was flustered, and I liked that.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“How am I looking at you?”

“I don’t—like you’re hungry,” he barely got out.

“Let’s go back to the inn.” I walked over to him, mindless of the rain.

He put his arm around me quickly, tucking me against his side. “I want you to keep that bracelet until I replace it with something else.”

“It’s not necessary,” I assured him yet again as we retraced our steps. We had been out for nearly three hours, but we hadn’t gone far. “I told you—I have what I want.”

“My heart,” he whispered hoarsely.

“That’s right,” I told him, smiling. “It is mine, isn’t it?”

No answer, just his stuttering breath as we walked in the rain.

“Isn’t it?” I asked, my tone sharper than I meant it to be.

He was losing the rhythm of his stride, bumping me, shifting me off-balance, as if he were drunk.

“Ash.” His name came out sounding ragged and thick, like it was dragged from my throat. It was impossible to make it all the way back to the inn like this.

When we turned the corner, I glanced around quickly and saw the closed antique store. Fisting the collar of his peacoat, I dragged him down the short alley between that store and a closed one that sold jewelry, around the dumpster, under an awning, and then bumped him back into an ancient stone wall.

“It is mine, isn’t it?” I asked for the third time, banging my right hand on his chest, over his heart.

“Yes,” he said, so softly I almost didn’t hear him over the rain pelting the umbrella, the lid of the dumpster, and the gutters of the buildings on either side of us.

“That’s good,” I rasped, choking on the swell of emotion roiling inside me as I slid my hand around the back of his neck and lifted his chin to me.

Our lips met, and I devoured his mouth, kissing him deeply, voraciously. The hunger was pulsing under my skin, roaring through my blood, but I was not eighteen anymore, and Ash was not just anyone. He was mine to protect, and not simply from physical threats, but also poor lost-in-the-moment choices.