Page 21 of Dissonance

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, the scrape of his beard against my skin making me shiver.

Four little words and the careful argument I’ve been building disappears. My mouth goes dry, my heartbeat loud in my ears. His nose slides slowly along the side of my neck, lips relearning the line of it like he’s reminding himself of something he never quite forgot.

“Don’t push me away,” he says, rougher than I’ve ever heard him. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

“You make it very easy to make terrible decisions,” I breathe.

And I mean it. Him, this, us.

His hands leave the counter, one sliding to my hip, anchoring there. The other drifts to my waist, fingers slipping under the hem of my sweatshirt, finding bare skin above my waistband. A tight heat coils low in my stomach, my thighs pressing together, a soft whimper slipping past my lips.

“Christ,” he murmurs, and that restraint I could feel fraying finally breaks.

His mouth presses firm beneath my ear, then trails lower with unhurried, open-mouthed kisses across my overheated skin like he’s taking inventory—cataloging every shudder, every soft sound, each one belonging to him. My head tips back, giving him more without being asked, his teeth catching the shell of my ear, pleasure shooting through me sharp and sudden when he nips. He does it again, and my hips roll back against him without permission.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, his grip tightening in response, steadying me against him. Solid and real at my back, his fingers linger half an inch from a decision neither of us has said out loud. I know what happens if I lean back, what it means, what he’ll take as his. We shouldn’t be doing this, but the war in my head quiets to almost nothing because it’s him, and I want this, want his hands on me, want to feel—

Vibrations roll through my hips, a barely audible moan catching in the back of my throat as it happens again. His hand drifts lower, that rhythmic tremor bursting along my ass again.

“Lockie,” I whisper, the world dissolving to nothing but him and that delicious shuddering…

Reality slams back in, abrupt and unwelcome, and I try to wiggle out of his hold.

“Your phone,” I manage, breathless.

He pulls me back, fingers caressing bare skin under my sweatshirt. “Ignore it.”

Another burst of notifications, rapid and insistent. “That feels important.”

Exhaling roughly through his nose, his forehead drops to my shoulder for a half second before he releases me and pulls it from his pocket, glaring at the screen.

“Cooper,” he mutters, and the name lands like cold water, every flame he’d started to light extinguished in a single word.

Slipping out from between him and the counter, my hands tremble slightly as I tug down my sweatshirt, pressing myself to the opposite side of the kitchen, every nerve ending still burning with nowhere to go.

Scrubbing the back of his neck, he shoves his phone away, already halfway back into the role he never truly steps out of.

“The rock star wants food.”

A disbelieving laugh leaves me before I can stop it. Of course he does. Neither of us moves, my pulse still racing beneath my skin, and from the way his jaw is working, I think his is too.

“I should go.”

I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak anyway. He crosses the kitchen in two strides, stopping in front of me. His fingers brush a loose strand of hair from my face with a gentleness that has absolutely no right to undo me as thoroughly as it does. Somehow it’s more intimate than what we would have been doing if we hadn’t been interrupted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice is low, almost pained, then his lips touch my forehead. “Lock the door behind me.”

He steps back, picks up his keys and wallet from the counter, and walks out without looking back. The door clicks shut, the sound echoing through my apartment as I stand in my kitchen, staring at the space he just left.

12:17 a.m. Sleep’s a lost cause now.

I’ll see you tomorrow, he said. Like it was simple, like tonight wasn’t the closest we’ve come in three years to tearing down every boundary I’ve ever tried to build between us.

Only, he won’t see me tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it.

It’s the only sensible thing I’ve done all evening.

Chapter Eight