After a sigh, I did as she asked. With the covers back and the T-shirt up, I untied the other knot. I told myself it wasn’t any more than I’d seen at the baths. But when I began unwrapping the rest of the swimsuit from her body, I made sure my eyes were directed at her face. I was not going to be added to the list of people who’d taken advantage of her, who’d hurt her.
I leaned down over her and used a hand to lift up her midsection so I could unwrap the last strap. Too eager to be finished, I yanked on the swimsuit top and it slid off her body completely.
She gasped, arching her back, and her stomach brushed against my chest. I made a noise of frustration and exasperation, and slammed my eyes closed before I could be tempted to look.
As quickly as possible, I pulled the suit free from her arms and tossed it on the floor. I was still leaning over her when I opened my eyes. I looked at her lips, just for a second. But then she whimpered and . . . Damn it.
She breathed, “Jackson.”
She closed her eyes and lifted her lips toward mine. I knew she was attracted to me. And I’d thrown all my morals out the window when I kissed her earlier tonight, but I couldn’t do it again.
No matter how much I wanted to.
I owed her more than that.
I shifted away from her lips and kissed her cheek instead.
“I can’t. Not like this. If I’m going to cross this line, I sure as hell want you to remember it.”
Her hands gripped my waist.
“It’s not crossing a line if I want it.”
I swear to God she was like a siren. That’s why no one could say no to her.
“I want you, too. But you have no idea how many lines I’d be crossing, even if you were sober.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m getting you ready for bed, and then I’m saying good night.”
“Then get me ready for bed.”
She took my hand and placed it on her hip, where her swimsuit bottoms still rested. Needing to be done with this, I hooked my fingers under the fabric and pulled. I kept my eyes on the ceiling as I slipped the bottoms down her legs and past her feet. Then I pulled the blankets all the way up to her chin.
She caught my hand before I could pull away, holding it close to her face. My heart lurched.
“Don’t go.”
I smoothed a hand across my jaw.
“I have to. This isn’t a good idea.”
“I don’t want to wake up alone. If I don’t remember . . . I’ll . . . it will kill me. You don’t know . . .”
There was that mystery again. That glimpse of something that she wasn’t telling me, that she didn’t show anyone. That thing I couldn’t push to untangle no matter how tempted I was.
“Jackson, please.”
I couldn’t say no to her.
“Okay. Just . . . just give me a second.”
In the bathroom, I shucked off my own wet swim trunks in favor of some gym shorts. I looked in the mirror, but then wished I hadn’t.
I looked rough.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was that tonight I’d undone a year of hard work and commitment.
Either way, I was more worried about Kelsey than I was about me.
I would survive. That was what I did . . . against all odds. And somehow I knew that I wouldn’t relapse after that one drink, not when it could impair my ability to take care of her.
There was a sickening, sinking feeling in my gut that unraveled into theories about Kelsey and her past, and I wanted to punch something just so I didn’t have to think about it anymore.
Whatever had happened to her, there was more to Kelsey Summer’s story. There was a reason my drawings of her only worked when she looked sad.
Back in the room, I turned off the lamp beside the bed and settled down in the chair to sleep for the night.
I didn’t know Kelsey Summers. But I wanted to. If she would open up, if she would let me. I was a little afraid to admit how much I wanted from her.
Ten minutes after Kelsey fell asleep, my phone buzzed. Kelsey’s father.
No matter what I wanted, I was the last person in the world she should trust.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CORA CARMACK is a twenty-something writer who likes to write about twenty-something characters. She’s done a multitude of things in her life—retail, theatre, teaching, and writing. She loves theatre, travel, and anything that makes her laugh. She enjoys placing her characters in the most awkward situations possible, and then trying to help them get a boyfriend out of it. Awkward people need love, too.
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Seeking Her
Finding It
Keeping Her (novella)
Faking It
Losing It