Page 52

Instead, she heads down the steps and crosses her backyard. When she reaches the loose board in the fence, she pushes it to the side and squeezes through. I don’t look away as she walks across my yard and onto my back porch.

Once she’s close, I notice something’s different.

Something’s missing.

“Your rings,” I say, nodding at her left hand.

Just hours ago, Wyatt’s diamond nearly blinded me. Now her finger is bare, the only evidence she was married the indentation from where her rings once were.

“I realized it was time to stop clinging to the past. They’re at the bottom of the lake at Holley Ridge.”

One corner of my mouth curves up. “Good for you. Let’s get you a drink to celebrate.”

I hold the back door for her, then follow her inside, moving toward the refrigerator.

“I also have wine if you’d prefer,” I say, glancing her way.

But she’s no longer standing by the counter.

She’s mere inches away.

Before I know what’s happening, she cups my face in her hands and slams her lips against mine.

I go still, unable to move, to think, to fucking breathe. Not when the woman I’ve spent years fantasizing about is standing in my kitchen with her hands on my face and her mouth pressed against mine.

I’ve imagined what this might feel like more times than I care to admit. Especially after that tease of a kiss this past weekend.

But I never thought I’d actually find out how she tastes. And she tastes even better than I could have imagined. Like fruit and mint and something sweet.

I try to savor everything about this.

Every breath.

Every tiny movement.

Every place her body touches mine.

But then she tears away.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I have no idea what I was thinking. Blame Hilde, I guess. She was telling me it’s time to stop living the life everyone else wants and to start doing what I want.”

“And you wanted to kiss me?” I ask, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid. I’ll just go.” She hurries toward the back door.

But before she can escape, I say, “Stop apologizing, Wynter.”

My voice comes out low and rough, more of a command than a request. She whirls around, and a heavy silence falls between us.

I can hear every breath she takes.

Can smell her sweet perfume.

Can see the pulse beating at the base of her throat.

And I want to put my mouth there.

Hell, I want to put my mouth everywhere on her fucking body.