Beneath This Ink (Page 26)

I pictured the boy from the dinner and the others I’d seen training in the gym. These kids were important to him. Now it was my heart that fluttered. He might have more baggage than a cargo hold, and that chip on his shoulder might never go away, but Con Leahy was a good man, with a good heart. “I think it’s a great idea.” I stared up at him. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Cool. I’ll let you know when and where,” he said, taking a swig from his beer.

“Is that all? Because this seems pretty elaborate just to ask me a favor.”

Con laughed and scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair. “Figured it was a place you’d probably never been before.”

“You’d be right about that.”

I lifted my beer for another drink, but Con plucked it from my hand. “Wait.”

My empty hand hung in mid-air. “Uh. What?”

Con set both of our bottles down, and asked, “Do you trust me?”

I thought about our last encounter. “Should I?”

“Probably not.”

He reached out, brushing my hair over my shoulder.

“What are you—?”

“I want to kiss you while we’re both sober.”

My mouth dropped open, and Con wasted no time lowering his head and capturing my lips.

His lips were firm but smooth, and they worked over my own, daring me to open to him. His tongue teased, and I couldn’t help but let him inside. He tasted of the same beer I’d been drinking, but when mixed with Con, it took on a completely new kaleidoscope of flavors. I never really thought I’d have another chance to feel his mouth on me, and now that I did, I knew it was the worst idea I’d ever had.

I pulled back, stepping away from him. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

I turned and headed for the door. I reached it, my shaky hands tugging at the handle. It didn’t budge. Dammit. Locked.

From a few feet away, Con asked, “You want to know if I’m always going to be carrying that goddamn chip on my shoulder? Doesn’t help that you’re always running away from me like you can’t believe you got caught with your pants down with the lawn boy.”

“It’s not you—”

“You’ve said that. It’s not me. Well, I’m the only other person up here, so if it’s not me, then who the hell is it you’re running from?”

“Me! Don’t you get it? It’s not always about you! This is all too much.”

“So that’s it?” Con’s harsh breaths became louder as he inched closer. “Then why did you even agree to give me a shot?”

I rested my palms and my forehead against the cool metal of the door. My next words were so quiet that if Con hadn’t positioned himself beside me, there was no way he would’ve caught them.

“That night was… a huge deal for me. It was one of the first times I’d ever just… jumped. I didn’t look first. I didn’t think about all of the potential outcomes. I just went for it. I mean, the booze helped, but there was something pushing me to follow you anywhere you wanted to take me.”

I craned my head to look at him. His rugged features were dimly lit by the glow, but it was impossible to miss his eyes drilling into me.

I continued, “There’s something about you that makes me do things without thinking them through. It’s like you’re this crazy catalyst that gives me the courage to just… jump. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I agreed to give you a shot. But when you kiss me, instead of all my thoughts flying away, they come rushing back. That’s when I remember all of the reasons this is a bad idea that’s going to blow up in my face.”

Con leaned against the door beside me. “Damn. That hurts, Van.”

I blinked in confusion. “What? What hurts?”

“That you can still think when I kiss you. Means I’m not doing a very good job.” He reached out and trailed a finger along the strap of my dress that had been revealed by the cardigan falling off my shoulder.

“Of everything I said, that’s the part you care about the most?” I would have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t disappointed.

“No.” He shook his head, tugging on the strap. “I care about every damn word that comes out of that mouth of yours. I’m still digesting the rest. Might take me a while to figure out how to respond to those. But the part about thinking while I kiss you— that I can do something about right now.”

Con released the strap. I twisted so my back was against the door, and Con followed my movements until we were toe-to-toe. He pressed a hand to the door on either side of my head and leaned closer before adding, “Unless you want to go.”

With the cool metal against my back, Con’s heat at my front, and the heavy summer air all around us, I considered my options. Despite my above-average height, Con still topped me by a good five inches. I felt small standing in front of him. Feminine. Delicate.

“So?” He dropped one hand, dug in his pocket, and produced a key. The shiny silver metal caught and reflected the light. “Stay or go?”

Did I want his lips on mine again? If he could silence the racing thoughts, and allow me to simply enjoy the moment and not worry about the consequences? God help me, but I knew the answer to that.

“Stay,” I whispered.

His eyes flashed, and the key disappeared from sight.

“Then stop,” he said.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking.”

If only it were that easy. “You can’t just order me to and expect it to happen.”