“Seriously?” I hear barked.
My eyes squeeze shut. Then Mike’s forehead touches mine for a brief second before he pulls away.
“You, me, outside,” he tells Conner, jerking his head towards the front door.
My hand covers my mouth and I look around the room at all the people who have stopped to watch what’s going on. I can’t believe I just kissed Mike in front of all of these people; I really can’t believe I did it when I am out with Conner.
“Oh shit. This should be good.”
I look to my left at a young guy. His head’s shaved. He looks similar to Asher, and I wonder if they’re brothers.
His eyes come to me and a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m Trevor.”
“Kathleen,” I say then hear yelling and start to head towards the front of the house.
“Don’t think Mike would want you out there, doll,” a guy covered in tattoos says, stepping in front of me.
“I need to stop them.”
“Sorry,” he says, and I try to step around him, but he blocks my way again.
“Move.” I glare, and he smirks, shaking his head.
I look around me and see a sliding glass door not far from where I’m standing. I’m just about to make a run for it when Mike comes storming back into the house carrying my purse, which I left in Conner’s truck.
“Let’s go,” Mike says, and the tattoo guy in front of me smiles before stepping out of the way. When Mike reaches my side, his hand slides around my waist and his eyes go to the tattoo guy. “Thanks, Nico, and tell November I’ll call her,” he says before leading me out of the house.
“What are you doing?” I ask when I finally find my voice.
“We’re going to my house so we can talk,” he says, opening the passenger’s side door to his car and pushing me in before slamming the door closed.
“What just happened?” I whisper to myself as I watch Mike slide behind the wheel.
“Seatbelt, babe,” he says as I sit there, stunned. His arm comes across me, pulling the belt across my body before locking it in place.
“Mike.”
“We’ll talk soon,” he tells me, starting up the car and putting it in reverse.
“Mike.”
“Just a minute, babe,” he mutters, pulling out his phone and pressing a couple of buttons before putting it to his ear. “I won’t be at the club tonight. Can you handle it?” he asks into the phone while turning his car onto the main road. “Good. Thanks,” he mutters before pulling the phone from his ear and putting it in the cup holder between us.
“Can you take me home?” I ask softly.
His hand comes to mine in my lap. He twines his fingers with mine before pulling my hand to his mouth and whispering, “No,” against my fingers.
“I just kissed you when I was out on a date with someone else,” I tell him.
“I know,” he replies, pulling my hand to his thigh.
“I feel really horrible about that, Mike.”
“I know that, too.”
“I need to apologize to Conner.”
“No, you don’t,” he says firmly.
“Mike, you know about my past, about my ex and what he did to me. I doesn’t sit well that I did that to someone else.”
“Did you sleep with him?” he asks on a growl.
“What?”
“Did you sleep with Conner?” he repeats, sounding even angrier.
“No,” I whisper.
“Do you like him?”
“He was nice.”
“Nice?” he says, his face showing disgust.
“Yes. Nice.”
“Could you see yourself with him in five years?” he asks, and I turn my head to look at him, noticing that his jaw is clenched.
“No,” I say quietly.
“Then you don’t need to call him.”
We drive the rest of the way to his house in silence. My brain keeps repeating everything that just happened and I have no idea why I’m not fighting him or why I don’t have more of an issue with his telling me that I can’t call Conner. All I keep thinking about is that, every time he touches or kisses me, it feels right.
When we pull up to his house, he shuts down the car and immediately gets out, walks around to my side, opens my door, leans in across me, unhooks my belt, and pulls me out with him.
“Um,” I mumble, not sure what I’m going to say as he shuts the door behind us.
He grabs my hand, dragging me with him into the kitchen. “Sit here,” he says as his hands go to my waist, hoisting me up on to the counter. Then he kisses me on the lips before going to the fridge and getting two beers.
I watch him, at a loss for words, while he pops the tops on both beers before coming to stand in front of me, pushing my legs apart, and then standing between them.
“Now, let’s talk,” he says, setting his beer down at my hip. His hands slide around me, pulling me closer to him. “First, I fucked up, but this is how it’s supposed to be. There is supposed to be an us.”
I can feel my mouth opening and closing, but no words are coming out.
His eyes search my face, his voice drops and his hands go to my face, holding it gently. “I love you. You love me.”
I double blink and feel my insides melt.
“I messed up.”
What the hell is going on?
I look around the kitchen, making sure that I’m not getting Punk’d. Men do not do this—at least not the men I know. Then again, Mike has never been normal—hence my not being able to get over him.
“Do you forgive me?” he asks softly, his eyes pleading.
I take a deep breath, holding it in. I still can’t form words as I look into his eyes. I know we have a lot to work through, but I want to be with him. So I take my hands off the counter, place them on his shoulders, and lean in, pressing my mouth to his. His hands hold my face more firmly while he takes over control of the kiss by tilting my head farther so he can get deeper. His tongue tangles with mine and the feel of his hand skimming down my side to run smoothly over my breast causes me to lift my hips and circle my legs around his waist. Then he pulls his mouth away and rests his forehead against mine with his eyes closed.
“We have a lot to work out,” I say softly.
He nods, his hands sliding around me.
“If we’re going to do this, I want all of it, not just the sex.” I know deep down that I’m just as guilty as he is for what happened between us before. I should have told him sooner that I wanted more before flipping out and jumping ship.