When We Kiss: An enemies-to-lovers, opposites-attract romantic comedy by Tia Louise

Author:Tia Louise [Louise, Tia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: TLM Productions LLC
Published: 2018-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

Chad

The scent of Tabitha Green has been on me all day, making me crazy. I see her cuffed on that bed, breasts heaving, legs rubbing together slowly. I taste her, sweet and rich on my tongue.

Standing in my kitchen, I lean on the scrubbed metal counter holding my scotch and remembering her sitting here, kissing me. I tilt my glass back and forth, watching the amber liquid move side to side. Kissing her is like a fever in my brain. It’s hot and fast and hungry.

She’s so fucking sexy and so damn smart. When I first saw her, I admit, I fell for her looks. Of course, I did. She was standing in a transparent bra and panties at the side of an ancient pool looking embarrassed and angry and defiant… and so damn tempting. I was curious, yeah, but I had come here to get myself back together, to stop ignoring the past and trying to outrun it. I had to put her on hold.

But she never left my mind.

How could she?

I would see her every day, and every day she was the same—embarrassed and angry and defiant. She thinks she knows who I am, but she doesn’t. She thinks she can put me in a neat box, but she can’t—just like she can’t be fit into a box, categorized like a fish or a bird.

We’re complex and more alike than she realizes.

She skipped out of Emberly’s bakery like a rabbit, but I don’t think she’s scared. It’s been a fast three days, but she doesn’t seem like the type to spook easily. She turned her back on me for a year… until she didn’t. Now I can’t get enough of her, and I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.

Am I wrong?

I want to know the answer.

I want my hands on her.

I want to kiss her again.

Lowering the glass to the counter, I jog down the steps, shove my feet in a pair of tennis shoes, and I’m out the door. My head is on fire, and I’m walking fast. Almost like I’m being driven.

It takes a few minutes to walk the mile separating her house from my apartment. The lights are on inside, and I see the shadow of her sitting in front of that huge computer screen. Lifting my phone, I quickly text her.

You busy?

She doesn’t move at first, and I wonder how long it takes for a text to make it into space and back down to where her device waits beside her… Not long.

I watch as she straightens then lifts the phone. She holds it a minute, and my stomach tightens. Will she answer? Will she tell me yes?

Her reply makes me smile. Can’t concentrate again.

Are your wrists okay?

They don’t hurt, but they look bad.

My stomach tightens. I never want to hurt her. Can I see them?

I’ll send a photo.

Open the door.

Her shadow quickly turns in the chair. I wonder if she can see me through the window, standing here in my gray sweats, my white undershirt, and my old tennis shoes.

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