A bottle of whiskey would take care of that, my asshole brain suggested.
I stretched out on my bed with an old copy of Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness. It wasn’t exactly a light read, but I didn’t mind. I was just getting to the creepiest part when I heard the creak of someone’s footsteps climbing the stairs to my room.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck, and I set the book down. I couldn’t think of a soul who would visit me here. If it happened to be an old friend from my past, chances were that I wouldn’t want to see him.
When the knock came, it wasn’t gentle. “Jude?” The voice was female.
Sophie.
I jumped off the bed and pulled open the door. And there she stood in the dark, arms crossed, looking up at me with big, angry eyes.
“Hi?” I said, confused.
Before I knew what was happening, she stepped over the threshold. Sophie kicked the door shut and then leaned against it. “Are you staying in Colebury?” she demanded. “I have to know.”
“Uh.” Shit. “I don’t have much choice. No other garage will hire me.”
My brain was playing catch-up. But my body was clueing in to the fact that Sophie and I were barely two feet apart and standing within spitting distance of the bed where we’d had more sex than sleep. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths, and her cheeks were flushed.
Wait—one cheek was redder than the other. Was that a handprint? I pushed the hair away from her face for a closer look. “What the fuck?” I whispered. “Who did that?”
“Who do you think?” Her words were like little chips of ice.
Jesus. “Your father?” With a gentle thumb, I traced the outline of what must have been a horrible slap. “Did you tell him you were with…?”
“No! I’m not an idiot.” She grabbed my wrist and flung my hand away from her face. Then she grabbed my flannel shirt in two hands and looked up into my eyes. Her gaze was fiery and fierce. “Can you be the one person who doesn’t make me feel stupid today?”
Time paused like a held breath as Sophie’s hands pressed against my body, their warmth searing my pecs. We stared at each other while confusion rippled through me. And then everything got even more complicated. Sophie rose to her toes and yanked me into a kiss.
I’d never been so stunned. The feel of her soft mouth on mine was so unexpected and yet so familiar it was too much to bear. As our lips did a slow slide together, my breath hitched. But I couldn’t pull back. One more taste, my asshole brain suggested. Bracing both of my palms against the door, I leaned into her sweet mouth.
She opened for me immediately. When our tongues touched, I had the sensation of falling or running too fast downhill. She tasted like Sophie. She tasted like the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Warm hands curled around my biceps. When I nipped her lip, she whimpered, and my dick perked up like a lonely stray who suddenly smelled a feast. I thrust my tongue against hers, and she moaned into my mouth. Her hands went to the buttons on my shirt.
That’s when I remembered who I was, and just how bad an idea this was.
Although it hurt me, I dragged my mouth off Sophie’s. Angling to the side, I leaned my forehead against the cool metal door. Our bodies were still pressed together, but as long as I didn’t kiss her, I could probably have a lucid thought or two.
Her hands went still on my ribcage, their warmth burning through my shirt. “Jude,” she whispered. “What happened to saying you’d do anything for me?”
To the surface of the door I said, “That’s still true.”
Her fingers wandered up the centerline of my chest and then down again. She was trying to kill me, and surely I deserved it. “Then why did you stop?”
Wasn’t it obvious? There was no way in hell that Sophie and I could be together. It didn’t matter that I was still in love with her. And it didn’t matter that we had always had the sort of combustible attraction for one another that was immortalized in rock songs. “Why are you here? Serious question.”
She made an angry sound. “Why was I ever here? Because we want each other.”
“Not all the things we want are good for us.”
“No kidding. But who does it hurt?”
Me, I thought immediately. Just having her here in my room hurt so bad. I was bleeding out memories. The taste of her cherry lip gloss on my tongue. The scent of her hair enveloping me. We’d spent so many hours in this room burning up the sheets.
“Who does it hurt?” she repeated. “Not my brother. He’s gone. And not my family. They don’t give a fuck about me anymore.”