Dazed, I step back, staring at Weston. He just kissed me. Right here, in the grocery store. And it wasn’t a little kiss. Not a hello kiss, or a thank-you kiss, or a silly little we’re-just-roommates-and-I’m-messing-around kiss.

That was a real kiss. And oh my god, it was good.

His eyes are glued to mine and there’s something in his expression I’ve never seen before. He’s vulnerable.

I should say something else, but my mind is blank. All that’s there is the feel of his mouth on mine, my lips still tingling, my heart racing.

“Wow.” It comes out breathy, barely a word at all.

His mouth moves in the hint of a smile and his piercing gray eyes sparkle. “We should probably go.”

I nod and he takes the cart, pushing it toward the front of the store. We stand in line and I’m like a zombie, staring at nothing. It’s good one of us is still functional, but it certainly isn’t me. He unloads the cart, nods to the cashier, pulls out his wallet.

What just happened? Why did he do that? I was talking about what, lasagna? I didn’t think Italian food would get a guy hot for me, though they do say the way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach. But this isn’t just a guy. This is Weston. Angry, cocky, asshole Weston. Fun, sexy, captivating Weston.

He just kissed me. And I kissed him back. Holy shit, did I ever kiss him back.

We load the groceries into his car and drive home in silence. I’m buzzing with anticipation, wondering what happens now. Is he going to say anything? Explain himself? Are we going to move on and pretend it didn’t happen? There’s no way that’s going to work. Whatever that was, it broke something open between us and there’s no going back now.

Is he going to do it again?

We get home and bring the bags inside. I set mine on the counter and feel Weston come up behind me. I freeze. He’s so close—almost touching. His hand brushes down my arm, sending sparks dancing across my skin. I look over my shoulder and he touches my chin, the slight pressure of his fingers enough to turn me around. He watches me while my heart beats the seconds, his eyes intense.

Without a word, he leans down and takes my mouth in a hard kiss. Hauls me close, pressing me against him. He sucks on my lower lip, sliding his tongue across it, and my body comes alive. Desire surges through me, hot and so tempting.

His hand moves up my back and he fists it through my hair. I wrap my arms around his waist, my palms splaying across his back. His mouth demands more and I give it to him—let him in as deep as he wants to go. He answers with a low growl in the back of his throat, his hand tightening in my hair.

He is kissing the fuck out of me and I’m powerless to stop him.

The urgency between us heightens, like a rope being pulled tight. His hand cups my cheek and he alternates between deep and shallow. Kissing my lips, his so warm and soft and delicious. Then delving in with his tongue, throwing me off balance, kissing away my breath.

His hands slide down to my jeans and he fumbles with the button. Reality comes crashing back and I pull away, breaking the kiss. I let go of him and try to move back, but I’m pressed up against the counter.

The shock of separating seems to leave us both reeling. We’re breathing hard, still standing so close we’re touching. Weston’s jaw brushes against my temple, his chest rising and falling against me. After a long moment, he steps back.

This is insane. What are we doing? What am I doing? I can’t let this happen.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at me, his brow furrowed, his gray eyes like a storm cloud.

“I just…” I falter, trying to say something. Trying to keep this from going nuclear right here in my kitchen. “I don’t think we should… This is… God, Weston, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t want me to kiss you,” he says, his voice strangely quiet.

“No, I…” I close my eyes for a second. Why is this so hard? This is a bad idea. Weston is a bad idea. I know this.

Then why do I have to fight to hold myself back from him?

“We’re good, Weston,” I say. “We’re good the way we are. This would mess everything up.”

“Looks like I already did that,” he says.

“No, you didn’t. I just… I didn’t expect this,” I say. “I don’t really know how to feel about it.”

“Because you don’t know how you feel about me.”

“No, because I don’t know how you feel about me,” I say. “You’re not exactly good at communicating your feelings.”

He looks away.

“Weston, I don’t know what you want from me,” I say. “I don’t think you know what you want from me.”

“Why can’t we just let this happen?” he asks. “Maybe I don’t know. Why can’t we find out?”

Tears spring to my eyes and a lump in my throat threatens to choke off my words. “Because I like you too fucking much. And I don’t want to get hurt.”

The look on his face makes me ache. His eyes turn into deep pools of emotion and his lips part. He starts to say something, but I shake my head.

“Don’t lie to me,” I say. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t hurt me. We both know you would. You could take me back to your bedroom right now and fuck me senseless, and maybe it would even mean something. But probably not. Because it never does, does it? Sex is just a thing you do for fun, because it feels good. That’s not how I am. I’ve tried it, but casual sex never works for me.”

“I never said this was casual,” he says.

“No, but do you ever have anything else?” I ask. “Is any woman more than a diversion to you?”

His jaw tightens and his eyes turn flinty. I keep waiting for him to blow up at me, but he just keeps staring.

“I’m sorry, Weston,” I say, my voice quiet. “If we let this happen, I’ll only get attached to you in ways you don’t want.”

Leaving the groceries sitting out on the counter, I brush past him and walk quickly to my room. I need to get out from under those eyes. I know I’m doing the right thing, but the ache in my chest—and between my legs—is making it so hard. If he keeps staring at me like that I’m going to cave.

He doesn’t say anything when I walk away. No angry reply. Part of me wants him to come after me. To lie to me and say I’m different. That I’d be more than a quick fuck, and he wouldn’t bail when things got real.

But he doesn’t.

I shut my door softly behind me, and for once it latches on the first try. I touch my lips, still sensitive and swollen from his kiss. I can’t deny how good it felt. There was something there, like an unspoken word passing between us in the heat of our kiss.

Finally.

I flop down on the bed. I have to stop thinking like that. But I’m so confused. The swirl of emotions inside me is leaving me dizzy.

I think I should get out of the house for a little while, so I grab my phone to text Mia. But it buzzes as soon as I pull it out of my pocket. It’s a text from Weston.

My hands tremble as I swipe the screen.

Weston: You’re not a diversion.

Me: Then what am I?

Weston: I don’t know.

Me: Exactly. You don’t know.

Weston: If you were any other woman, I’d know exactly what I wanted. None of this makes any sense to me.

Me: You’re in good company there. None of it makes sense to me either.

Weston: I’m sorry, Kendra. This is hard for me, I never know the right things to say. I don’t want to hurt you.

Me: Okay, well, that’s a start.

Weston: I don’t know what else to say.

Me: Me neither.

There’s a pause and I wonder if he’s going to leave it at that.

Weston: Do you want me to go?

His question brings the sting of tears to my eyes.

Me: No. I just need space tonight.

Weston: OK

I put my phone down and take a deep breath. The floor creaks a few times, but I’m not sure what he’s doing. About five minutes later, my phone buzzes again.

Weston: I put away the groceries.

I burst out laughing—a testament to how ragged my emotions are.

Me: Thank you.

I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what the hell is happening to me.