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“My mother’s pretty darn smart, especially about people,” he said, his tone so neutral she knew it was intentional.
“So’s mine,” she replied, although she didn’t quite manage the same level tone.
“So maybe we should take them seriously.”
“Maybe we should.”
This time when he leaned over her, she knew there’d be no stopping.
And when she felt his lips on hers, felt the leap of her heart, felt her body’s response, blanking all else including any lingering pain from her mind, stopping was the very last thing she wanted.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cody supposed, in the quirkiest part of his quirky brain, he could maybe have imagined what it would be like to kiss Britt Roth. If he’d ever been inclined, which he hadn’t. Twenty-eight years of her next door, from hospital to home, and he’d ever and forever thought of her as the enemy.
But somehow it had changed, and here he was. And the moment he felt her soft mouth, that mouth had had so often poured out sharp retorts or sarcastic observations, under his the only thought his mind could hang on to was that this was the most amazing, most incredible thing he’d ever felt. He could almost hear his own heartbeat as it slammed into high gear and began to race.
She felt impossible. She tasted even better. And when she opened for him, luring him in, he went without a second thought, probing, savoring. He had to order himself to remember that she was hurt, that anything more than this was out of the question. It slowed him down, but not much.
It was awkward, him standing while she sat, but he didn’t care. He was cautious because of her injuries, but that was his only grip on reality. He deepened the kiss, leaning in further. He heard her make a small sound, urgent, as if she wanted more as much as he did. He felt her free arm slip around his neck, holding him close, as if she wanted to be sure he didn’t stop. And finally, with exquisite care, he sat down beside her. Never breaking contact, because he never wanted this to end.
And she was responding as if she was just as hungry for this as he was. That left him reeling a little. The taste, the feel, his pulse hammering, and somewhere, underneath it all, the utter impossibility that this was Roth. This delicious taste, this incredible heat, this surging response, was Roth.
No. It was Britt.
He wasn’t sure he could ever think of her only as Roth again.
Only because he had to breathe did he finally pull away. That when he did she was as breathless as he was reassuring somehow. She was staring up at him, those royal-blue eyes wide, as if she were as stunned as he.
“Wow,” she finally said, and the note of wonder in her voice sent a shiver down his spine.
“Yeah.” He couldn’t look away from her, from those eyes. He didn’t know how much time passed in silence, with them just staring at each other. Gives a whole new meaning to shock and awe.
“You don’t suppose…”
Her voice faded away. It had held an uncertainty he never would have associated with the ever-confident, fearless Britt Roth. And when she lowered her eyes, as if suddenly too shy to hold his gaze, he reached out and with a gentle finger lifted her chin. Those wide blue eyes met his again.
“Suppose what?”
She took a deep breath. Then, her voice a bit wobbly, she said it. “That…all the years we spent fighting each other…were we really fighting this?”
He liked so many things about what she’d said, including the breathy way she’d said it but mainly that she was referring to the fighting in past tense, that he couldn’t answer for a moment.
“Is life really that crazy?” she asked when he didn’t speak.
“Maybe…” He had to swallow before finishing it. “Maybe fate is.”
“Fate…” She smiled, a little smile, as if she liked that idea.
“Then again,” he said as he focused again on her mouth, “maybe we need more…testing.”
The smile widened. “Maybe. We shouldn’t just throw away twenty-eight years of animosity until we’re absolutely sure.”
He was sure. It was totally insane, that one kiss had shifted not just his world now but his entire history, but it had. It had, and he could no more deny it than he could deny the effect she had on him. His brain was having to work pretty damned hard to convince his body the next logical—and essential—step wasn’t going to happen. That it couldn’t, she was hurt, it was off the table. The bed. Hell, the floor, because he was pretty sure that was as far as they would have made it had things been different.
But things were what they were, and there was only one choice. And despite the frustration, it was easy to make.
He leaned in and kissed her again.
