Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

Author:Helena Hunting [Hunting, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542029308
Google: wzwmzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B08NJHHKBN
Goodreads: 56399701
Publisher: #PrB.rating#4.33
Published: 2021-07-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

KISSES AND CHEMISTRY

Van

Dillion pushes to her feet and holds out her hand to help me up. We both stand there for a second, staring at the destroyed chair, before we turn to each other and glue our mouths back together.

Dillion is nothing and everything like I expected her to be.

She’s a mix of bold and intense and soft and sexy.

And she sure as hell knows how to kiss, so I’m going to go ahead and guess that this chemistry we happen to share will be even more amazing once we get our clothes off.

After a few minutes of dancing tongues—or it could be longer than that; I lose track of time—she puts her hands on my shoulders and pulls back. We’re both panting. She covers my mouth with her palm. “Let’s put a pin in this until we get back to your place, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The word is muffled by her hand.

She nabs her phone from the table and leads me back out into the forest. It’s still raining, but it’s slowed considerably. The path isn’t wide enough for us to navigate side by side, so I follow behind, the light on her phone bobbing unsteadily with her hurried steps. We’re almost jogging we’re moving so quickly.

Eventually the path widens, and I fall into step beside her. We reach the turnaround where her truck is parked.

“Are you good to drive?” I ask. “I only had one beer, and that was a while ago.”

She hesitates for a moment, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, before she passes me her keys. “I’m not sure what the vodka-cran ratio was, and one beer seems less potent than what I was drinking.”

Dillion gives me directions back to the cottage. I park at her place, and she glances at the house, its windows darkened. We bypass the trailer and cut through the path between our lots, breaking into a run as the rain picks up again just before we reach the covered porch.

I fiddle with the lock, struggling to get it to open.

Dillion elbows me out of the way. “It’s tricky sometimes, especially when it’s damp.” She gets it to turn, and we finally tumble into the cottage, blissfully warm and dry and so much cleaner than the hunting cabin, despite the amount of clutter. I still haven’t tackled the inside, partly because I don’t want to disrupt the memories, and also because it’s a daunting task that feels like it will take an eternity. And I want to get the garage build underway. Cleaning it out has taken a lot longer than I expected.

Dillion glances around, eyes sliding across the open space, catching on trinkets, almost as though she’s cataloging all the things inside, accounting for them like a checklist. It occurs to me that she’s spent an incredible amount of time here. Far more than my few weeks a year plus holidays could ever account for.

A violent shiver rips through her, and she wraps her arms around herself, teeth chattering twice before her jaw flexes and she clamps them together.

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