She stood a few feet away, trembling with hurt. Emotional damage—far worse than any punch to the face, the gut. Far worse than any jab to the ribs. Broken bones? They eventually heal. A broken mind? Much harder.
It was easy to be angry with her. Those people weren’t good for her! She knew it. He knew it. But he also realized that they were her reality for three years. One of them was her reality for far longer. He couldn’t expect her to get over it so easily. He couldn’t expect her to move on overnight. He couldn’t expect her heart to heal so fast. No one’s heart heals that fast. His still hadn’t, though he knew the catalyst for a speedier recovery.
“I know I shouldn’t cry!” she said, tears and snot coursing her face.
He abandoned the Camaro and grabbed a Kleenex box from the counter. She pulled a tissue and blew her nose. He waited for the sobs to subside, listening to the hitching in her chest—her heart jerking and halting, searching for a normal rhythm.
“Has Casey said anything?” Jeremy asked.
Regan shook her head.
“Well, that’s one good thing,” he offered.
She nodded.
He didn’t ask about Brandon. He already heard the rumors of their sexual escapades and Regan’s inexperience. In detail. The words were meant to humiliate her, and they did. But he was oddly happy for them. He liked the idea of her not knowing much. He wanted her to discover those things with him.
He stood close to her, looking down at the top of her head, her bright white part juxtaposed against dark strands of silky hair. He thought he’d put his fingers in it. It was unfair to entertain lustful feelings when she was obviously upset, but he couldn’t stop himself. His eyes moved to hers, rimmed with black from her smudged mascara. His heart thumped madly behind his breast, and despite her leaking face, he knew this was the moment.
I’m going the distance, he thought, recalling one of his favorite songs. He listened for the melody inside his head and imagined the fist pump. The two twenty-five he was about to bench press. The starting line, and his chance to be the winner.
So, now you’re fucking awesome? She’s got raccoon eyes, and that makes you awesome? Go ahead and kiss her. She’ll sock you. This is Regan we’re talking about.
No, she won’t, he argued with certainty.
You’re quite sure of yourself.
I am. He smiled.
You’ve got something to prove?
I do.
“What are you doing?” Regan whispered, staring at him staring at her.
He studied her flushed face, watched another tear trail her dewy cheek.
“You wanna be better?” he asked.
She nodded automatically, not understanding.
“Me, too,” he said.
He cupped her face. He knew his fingers were damp with sweat and soiled with engine grease. He had no business touching her with those hands, and yet, he felt he had every right. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t nervous. But determination was a strange and powerful thing—stronger than any self-doubt. He knew he was inches from her face. He knew his scar screamed loud and angry at her. It was ugly. And he didn’t care because he knew. He knew her. He knew what she wanted but was too chickenshit to ask. He’d make it easy for her. He’d make the first move. Be a man for her.
“I’m taking you away from them for good,” he said softly. “And you’re gonna like it.”
Regan’s lips parted. He didn’t know if she’d protest, and he didn’t wait to find out. He pressed his mouth to hers. He wasn’t forceful. He wasn’t gentle. He was resolute.
Her hands went to his wrists, and she wrapped her fingers around them. She didn’t push away. She didn’t draw him closer. She simply accepted it. And then she craved it. He felt it in the slight movement of her hips. He was crushing her against the counter and didn’t realize it.
“Don’t do that,” he said into her mouth.
He could feel the grin and took it as an invitation. He slipped his tongue in her mouth, and she gave him hers. He was kissing Regan Walters! Tasting her for the first time. And, God, the way she tasted! Like icing on the sweetest cupcake. That’s all he could think about. Those cupcakes she brought him several weeks ago.
He pinned her tighter against the counter, begging silently for the movement of her hips—the same movement he’d just admonished her for. She shifted, encouraging his erection as her tongue explored his mouth. She pulled away a fraction of a second to lick his lip ring.
“I’ve wanted to do that forever!” she squealed, and he thought he’d tear her clothes off right there.
His kisses became more feverish. His hands moved from her face to her shoulders to her hips. The mess he made! He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop holding her against his body. Regan. The girl of his dreams. Kissing her. Holding her. Touching her. Wait. Who do you think you are touching her? She’s too good for you. She’s always been too good for you. She’s everything. You’re nothing . . .
His confidence collapsed on top of him, transforming into weighted doubt. He drew away, turned his back on her, hung his head.
You’re a loser, Jeremy? Did you forget that?
“Jeremy?” he heard behind him.
He didn’t answer.
“Jeremy?”
Nothing.
“JEREMY!”
He shifted the slightest bit.
“You don’t just kiss me like that and then turn away,” Regan said.
“I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Well, gosh. Am I that bad?”
“No!” He whirled around, then blushed profusely as their eyes met. “No, not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I shouldn’t have just come at you like that. It was wrong. Selfish.”
Regan touched her lips lightly. “But I liked it.”
“You did?”
“Did you not feel me kiss you back?”
“I did. I thought you were just being nice.”
She burst out laughing. The corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Believe me. If I didn’t want you kissing me, you wouldn’t have kissed me. I’m not ‘nice’ about things like that,” she said finally.
He nodded.
“It was out of the blue,” she pointed out.