He’s leaning casually against the wall at the base of the stairs. His eyes are unreadable, his face carefully blank, but I feel the tension coming off him in waves. He wants answers, I know. He more than deserves them. But that’s not the only thing he wants.
“I’m not running from anything,” I say, even as I glance for an exit. He pushes off the wall and gets in my space. I ball my fists by my sides because if I don’t they’d already be inching up the firm expanse of chest that fills my vision.
“You got that wild look in your eyes, baby. You’re either gonna run or you’re gonna find something to get pissed about and start yelling at me.”
Frowning, I glance up at his upturned lips. “I don’t yell at you.”
His teeth flash. “The hell you don’t. The only time I got a word out of you lately is when I push your buttons.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t push my buttons,” I suggest, my tone overly sweet.
He inches closer, his T-shirt radiating his heat, his chest touching my own. I notice the weirdest things about being so close to him like this. Like how our feet touch and knees brush against each other. Not body parts that I’d normally classify as high up on my list of erogenous zones, but hell if my heart doesn’t start to gallop inside my chest. I take an automatic step back and I bump into the banister. My hands fly out to grip the wood.
Trapped.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry, all previous bravado gone.
“You came to me,” he says and I blink up at him.
“I…what?”
“When you thought I was hurt, when you needed someone to be there for you. You came to me.”
“Don’t read into it,” I say, shrinking back against the wood posts. Oh God, I don’t know what I’m going to do if he touches me. I both fear and crave his touch and the warring needs cause my breathing to go uneven.
He notices the hitch in my chest, damn him, and those unfathomable eyes darken. He moves even closer now and my eyes flutter closed, the sight and feel of him is simply too much for me to process.
“I thought it was something I did. Something I said that ran you off. That I’d gotten too serious with you. Pushed you too far.”
I shake my head, aching for everything I ever did to hurt him. “It was never you.”
A hand cups my cheek and he waits until I open my eyes. “It was always you,” he says, before he touches his lips to mine.
It lasts the barest of seconds, but it’s enough for his groan to weaken my knees and his tongue to slip into my mouth with unerring accuracy. His taste floods my system, intoxicating me, throwing me back to every other kiss we shared just like this. His careful touches and plundering licks undue me, steal my senses.
He ends the kiss first, pulling away with both hands on my shoulders. When I manage to force my eyelids to cooperate, I blink rapidly to clear the haze from my vision. Two smirking teenage boys fill my vision. I panic, throwing my hands up to push Jack away, but he doesn’t budge.
“Jack,” I hiss, shoving at him.
“Sofie,” he says back. Then he looks at the two of them. “Need something?”
I look at him, eyes wide. Is he crazy? How can he be so calm?
They share a smile, then Rafe says, “We ran out of toothpaste.”
Narrowing my eyes, I point to my bathroom. They both back away with a couple elbows to each other’s ribs and smiles stretched a mile wide. I manage to keep my reaction under control until they make their way back upstairs.
“You can’t do stuff like that!”
“Do what?” he says, eyes smiling. My gaze drops down to his lips and I suck in a breath when I notice they’re still red from our kiss.
I tear my eyes away. “You know what.”
“Watch me,” he says, then leaves me staring after him. He double checks the locks on the doors and grabs a few things the boys missed on their way through, then throws them in the trash. When he comes back to the stairs, I’m still standing there with what I’m sure is a dumb look on my face.
“You okay?” He wraps one strong hand around my wrist and pulls me free from my stupor.
Shaking myself, I nod and ease my wrist from his grip. “Perfectly fine.”
“You looked stunned for a minute there,” he says, looking way too pleased with himself.
I open my mouth to respond but find I’m at a loss for words. With a frustrated growl, I stalk by him to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Prowling around the room, my heart still racing, I can’t quite seem to wrap my head around what happened.
Then I realize he’s probably not going to let a door stop this conversation we’re supposed to be having, so I gather up some clothes, I don’t even see them as my shaking hands pick them out of the drawers, and lock myself in the bathroom.