Letting Go by Hart Megan

Author:Hart, Megan
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Chaos Publishing
Published: 2020-05-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

He wasn't going to come back. Colleen had been stupid to send him out into the frigid night to buy what, soup? She let out a groan. Soup, for God's sake. First of all, where was Jesse even going to find soup at this time of night? Second, why hadn't she just told him to go and not come back? Hadn't she decided she wasn't going to see him again? She didn't need the aggravation.

That might be what her overactive mind told her, but it wasn't what her body wanted. The second she'd figured out the shadowy figure on her front steps was Jesse and not some random stranger getting ready to bludgeon her to death and steal her grandma's silver—or worse, Steve, stopping by "just to check in" on her—her hormones had gone into overdrive. She'd tossed out the comment about soup without thinking, but the second he'd offered to do what she'd asked, time had seemed to slow. Even to stand still for a second or so while her breath caught up to the hammer of her heartbeat in her ears.

He would do what she wanted him to do, because she asked.

And that had been enough to nearly send her to her knees, which had reminded her swiftly of how easily Jesse had gone to his, and after that, there was nothing left inside her but the flames of desire consuming her. Then he'd actually gone out the front door, leaving behind the hard cider she had no urge to drink. Looking at the six-pack now, her stomach did another slow, rolling tumble.

He wouldn't be back, she thought as she turned the shower water to hot and stripped quickly out of her grungy pajamas. He'd be running as far and fast as he could in the opposite direction. But just in case, she was going to shave her legs. And armpits. And…well, all the other pertinent places.

She got in the water before it was more than lukewarm, teeth chattering, rushing to be sure she'd be finished in case he did come back, which he wasn't going to do, of course. But if he did, she thought as she ran the razor over her legs and forced herself to slow down so she didn't cut herself, she needed to be able to hear the door.

In fewer than ten minutes, she'd finished. Smoothed lotion over her damp, goose-bumpy skin. Blotted her face with powder, dabbed on some gloss, added a bit of mascara. Nothing obvious. She didn't want him to know she'd made an effort. At the last minute, Colleen ran a damp brush through her hair, praying it wouldn't frizz. Then she slipped into a pair of silky pajama bottoms meant for summer wear, but far more flattering than the ancient flannels she'd been wearing. She looked in the mirror.

It would have to do.

She was downstairs when the front doorbell rang. For an eternal second, Colleen considered not answering the door, but it was close to ten-thirty now, and it could only be Jesse.

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