“It wasn’t good.”
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline in disbelief. “It wasn’t good? I beg to differ, it was fucking great. So good that the only reason I didn’t chase after you was because I figured you needed space. Otherwise, I probably would have fucked your mouth with my tongue all night long.” His voice is low, seductive, so incredibly sexy that I can feel my spine start to shiver just from his words.
“Um, that’s nice,” I say awkwardly, causing him to laugh.
“That’s nice? Come on, Hollyn, you’re killing me here. Give a guy a little ego boost.”
I chuckle from the pained look on his face. “I don’t mean it like that. The kiss was amazing, but that’s what makes me nervous. You’re the first man I’ve kissed since Eric died. No matter how I try to look at it, it feels like cheating.”
From my confession, Jace’s face softens, he settles in closer, and squats so we are eye level, his hands on my thighs, warming me instantly.
“Hollyn, you’re not cheating on Eric. I can understand how that must feel, to kiss another man when your heart is still partially with another, but it’s not cheating. It’s moving on. It’s letting go, it’s giving yourself a chance to continue to live.”
“But I’m not ready for that.” My voice grows tight. And when Jace runs his hands up my thighs and grips my hips, I find it odd that I feel comforted. By him. He should be a stranger to me, yet I feel so connected to him.
“You’re never going to be fully ready, Hollyn. You’re just going to have to close your eyes and jump. Trust in your strength and the strength in the people around you.”
Tears fill my eyes, my heart breaking with the thought of letting go of Eric. How can someone let go when they barely even had them to begin with? How can I let go of the one thing that gave me life? Was it love or was it Eric? I’m mourning the loss of someone I didn’t get to fully experience, and yet . . . so is Jace. Realization really hits me hard. We truly are going through the same thing and despite his recent setback, he seems to have a little more strength than me. Can I channel his strength and move forward? He needs me, yet I have so little to give him. In fact, all I’ve done is to be there to listen. To listen. I have talked ad nauseam about Eric, although admittedly, it has often been to the four walls of my apartment. Would we find it easier to move forward together? Is that what he is suggesting? If I continue this friendship with him, am I being unfaithful to Eric, or is it okay to find a friend in grief? Although it would be a lie to say I only feel friendship toward Jace. What woman would? I have relied on him too, and in some sense, it would be incredibly selfish to deny him whatever strength and peace he finds in me. And I’m not that girl. Can I be more to him? Can I . . .
“Are you jumping in?” I ask him. “If I jump in, will you jump in?”
Backing away, he stands and moves his hand to the back of his neck, contemplating my question. From beneath his propped up arm, he glances at me. “You’re jumping in?”
“Only if you do. I can’t do it alone.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” A smirk passes over his handsome features. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“I don’t expect it to, just don’t make me do it alone, Jace.”
“Will you stop ignoring me?”
“Yes.” I smile sheepishly.
“And we’re honest with each other from here on out?”
“Yes.”
“No hiding, no holding back. Everything is laid out on the table.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.” He comes forward and links my hand with his. Pulling me forward to a stand, his other hand grips my hip, bringing me closer. Guilt still lurks in the back of my head, and my stomach flips with each of Jace’s intimate touches. “Since we’re being honest, I have to tell you, ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew we were connected on a deeper level.”
“How did you know that?” I ask, slightly breathless.
“Because,” the hand that was on my hip cups my cheek and his thumb brushes against my skin, “I saw the same tortured look in your eyes in my reflection.”
Leaning forward, Jace brings his lips inches away from mine. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat, my knees feeling weak. Pressing those last few inches, I place my hand on his chest, stopping him before our mouths connect. “I can’t.”
Lifting his head but still staying close, he says, “You can’t, but you want to?”
Oh hell, do I want to. I want to so freaking bad. If I didn’t feel so conflicted, I would be wrapping my legs around Jace right now, begging him to take me back to his place. I’ve never been the girl to sleep with any man who shows interest, but Jace is right. From the moment we met, there has been that connection. Empathy. Plus, he’s everything a woman dreams of in a man. Strong, passionate, caring, sweet, and sexy. His short, dirty-blond hair, deep blue eyes, and powerful athletic build lure me toward him, like a piece of metal to a magnet.
Swallowing hard, I nod. “I want to, Jace. I so want to.”
He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, soaking in the air around us. “I want to get lost in you, Hollyn. In your touch, in your body, in your spirit. I want to forget with you, but I also want to experience joy again.” He sighs and opens his eyes. “But I can wait until you’re ready because you’re worth the wait.”
“You barely know me.”
His thumb runs along my jaw and across my lips. “You’re right; I barely know you, but what I do know I like. You’re stronger than any woman I’ve ever met. You’re loyal, and deep down you want to learn to live again. You want so desperately to flip the page to a new chapter. I see it in your eyes. Your ambition is sexy, your courage intoxicating, and fuck, your heart . . . it’s so damn beautiful.” Lifting his chin, he rests his lips on my forehead and presses down a kiss. “I can wait, Hollyn. I want to wait.”
Those words.
They’re all the confirmation I need.
So I jump.
DAISY
“Did you know you’re not supposed to hang your sweaters, but you’re supposed to fold them instead?” I ask Amanda, who is lying on my bed, feet up in the air, and her elbows propping up her head.
“Where did you hear that from? I hang mine and they seem fine.”
“Tsk, tsk.” I jokingly shake my finger. “Stacy London, fashionista extraordinaire, specifically said by hanging your sweaters, you’re pulling on the fibers, stretching them out. It’s best to fold them and lay them nicely on your shelves or in your drawers.”
Cocking her head to the side, Amanda asks, “Since when did you start listening to Stacy London?”
“Cable has been an interesting thing for me.” I smile. “I’ve learned a lot from the happenings on television.”
“I’m afraid to ask what else you’ve learned.”