Cassidy’s neck was as delicate under his fingers as he remembered. He traced her jawline as she moved her mouth to sync with his, their tongues seeking one another, heat arching across his skin.
He spun her around, backing her against the kitchen island. A soft moan of surprise escaped her throat, and he swallowed it up, running his hands over her shoulders and down the sleeves of her bulky sweater.
He’d completely lost hope of this moment ever happening again, storing the memory of Cassidy’s lips away as one of the best nights of his life, but now it had some tough competition. She was there, lips on his, hands roaming freely across his back and clutching his shoulders.
He couldn’t keep from touching every inch of her body that wasn’t covered by the adorable lounge wear she wore. Her neck was flush while her ears were cold. The skin on her wrists were peppered with goosebumps, her pulse jumping under his thumbs as he brought his attention from her lips to her palm, pressing soft, happy kisses against every part of her he could.
She cupped his face, her nails dragging through the hair at the nape of his neck, making it stand on end. He moved against her, his gaze locked on her innocent brown eyes. Fire ignited the chocolate color as he smoothed over the worn fabric of her bottoms.
“Watch the laptop,” she said, wriggling her nose against his. He matched her smile and granted her request, hoisting her petite and feminine body up onto the counter, sticky notes crumpling under her weight. He shoved her laptop to the side, making room for them to be as wild as they wanted… and he wanted to be wild. There was too much joy inside of him to be contained in soft and slow. A ravenous beast plowed its way to the surface, clawing for all of this woman it could devour in the undetermined amount of time he had. A flicker of fear that she’d bolt any moment underlined every kiss, every touch.
Relief that his feelings weren’t one-sided flooded his soul, and he gripped her hips and pressed a powerful kiss to her lips. They were tongues and heat and passion, and she pulled him closer, her arms latched around his neck, fingers pulling his hair and toying with his heart.
Every beat was for her, and he’d be happy if it beat every day of his life just the same.
He slid his grip down her thighs, hooking his fingers in the crooks of her knees and slamming her forward, a squeal of surprise and joy spilling from her lips. He smiled against them, then kissed a path down her luxurious neck, half-loving the bulky sweater that was completely who she was and half-hating it for covering so much of her silky skin.
“Why are you so… good at this?” she said with a hint of annoyance. He lifted his gaze and a brow.
“Would you like me to be bad at it?”
“It might even things out,” she teased, unaware of how irresistible she was. He reached for her hand, bringing it next to their faces, intertwining their fingers. He smirked, kissing that mustache tattoo.
“You’re much better than you give yourself credit for.”
“Oh yes, this is so sexy,” she said, tongue out as she pulled at her sweater and wiggled her mess of a hairdo. Jon swallowed hard and grabbed her face. He pressed another hard kiss to her lips, the edge of her glasses pushing into the bridge of his nose and only turning him on more.
“You have no idea,” he said.
“You must have a dork fetish.”
“Or a smart and fun woman fetish.”
“Woman.” She snorted. “Sounds so old.”
“You prefer young woman? Girl? Lady? Female?”
“Ew, stop.”
He chuckled and kissed her again, running his hands down her neck, over her shoulders, and settling on her hips. She had such a tiny waist, fragile… but he knew she was anything but.
Her nails tickled his five-o’clock shadow, equally relaxing him and revving him up. He could take her to bed and do nothing or do everything, and it would feel like the best night of his life. Being close with her in any capacity was a prize worth taking, and one he would not take for granted.
She deepened the kiss, and he matched her, his hands unable to hold her tightly enough. Her ankles locked around his hips, her arms holding tight to his shoulders and the back of his head. He loved that she seemed obsessed with his hair, pulling and smoothing through the strands, coaxing him into softer or harder kisses. She was definitely running the show, pulling his strings just like she had the night of the party.
He lifted her off the counter, spinning her to the nearest wall. His hands moved over her soft pants, catching on the corner of something sharp and sticky.
A hiss went through his teeth, and he pulled back, using the wall to keep Cassidy up while he examined his finger.
“You okay?” she said breathlessly.
“Your butt bit me,” he said, grinning as he showed her the tiny paper cut along the side of his finger.
Her brows pulled in, and she slid down his body, her feet and legs tangled between his on the floor.
“What in the world…?”
She twisted, examining her butt. Jon laughed and reached around, plucking the Post-it off her pants and holding it out in front of her nose.
“Hmm,” she said, taking it from him. “A Z11.3 code…”
“And what’s that?”
Her eyes widened, and she leaned in. “Gonorrhea.”
He suppressed his laughter. “We better cool it, then.”
She nodded, pursing her lips together and letting the Post-it float to the floor. “Don’t want anyone talking about us, right?”
Her lips met his, but he pulled back, worry filtering into his chest. “Why not?”
“What?”
“Why don’t we want anyone talking about us?”
Her arms slid from his shoulders, a cool breeze replacing her touch. The air in the room shifted, thick with unease. Jon quickly reached for her hand, locking her fingers, fear curling its rotten fist around his throat. He could sense her feet about to take off, her body turning toward the door, her mouth infuriatingly silent as she left him again without an explanation.
He couldn’t stand another two weeks of indifference toward him, not when he knew they had this connection together, not when he was falling in love.
“I better go back to my room,” she said, wriggling from his hold and ducking under his arm. She fumbled for her laptop and Post-its, gathering what she could with shaky hands.
He wanted to step in front of the door, but his feet stayed planted. He didn’t want to stop her if she wanted to go, but he felt he should get a reason, see what he’d done.
“Why…” he managed before clearing his throat. “Why do you keep running from me?”
She stopped, her back to him, her laptop hugged to her chest, stickies hanging off each finger. A Post-it was stuck to her upper thigh; he doubted she was aware, and he wondered how funny it would’ve been to find another in the heat of the moment.
“I need to know what I did… what I’m doing,” he pleaded. “I… I really like you, Cassidy. If you don’t feel the same, if you just want to… I don’t know, mess around—”
She spun on her heel, brow pinched deep, eyes a sure-fire look into hell itself. He immediately wanted to eat his words.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she spat. “I’m not messing around with anyone.”
“Right. I’m sorry.” He gulped, head racing, trying to find an explanation. Cassidy’s face softened, and she turned, falling against the door and letting out a long sigh. “I dated all those guys, looking for you.”
He tilted his head, but didn’t want his confusion to stop her from explaining, so quickly composed himself. “I was around,” he said. “I wanted to ask you out, but…”
“After the gossip, you figured I was a one-night type?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “And there is nothing wrong with that. It’s just…”
“Not what you’re looking for.”
He searched for the right words. “That night meant a lot to me. I thought it didn’t mean as much to you. That’s all.”
Her eyes watered, and he resisted every urge to run over there and take whatever pain she was experiencing away.
“It meant everything to me,” she whispered, her cheeks morphing into a beautiful shade of pink. “But I didn’t… I didn’t know who you were.”
He jerked back. “What?”
She let out a huff and knocked her head on the door, her eyes on the ceiling. “I was blind half the night, and with your mask and everything… I had no clue who I was falling for. I’ve been dating around, searching for the guy with the Flounder tattoo, the guy with those kind, beautiful eyes, with that infectious smile. Searching for my Westley.”
“So… when did you realize—”
“About twenty minutes ago.” She snorted. “Guess you can cross me off for that ‘smart woman’ fetish.”
He crossed the room, taking her face in his hands, knowing it was his favorite place to be. His forehead met hers. “Then why are you leaving?”
She frowned, nudging him away with the back of her hand. “I’m about to accuse my co-workers of stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars. I can’t be dating the boss. Even if I…”
“Even if you what?”
He searched her watery eyes, wanting her to finish, needing her to. Even if she liked him? Loved him?
Her lips turned down, and he could hear her hand searching for the door handle. “I really need to go.”
Her laptop slipped in her arm, and though he didn’t want to, he reached for the door and opened it for her.