Reconcile by Nicole Dykes
My heart is still beating so rapidlyI should probably be concerned, but the only thing I’m worried about is Piper. What the fuck was that jackass thinking following her home? And what the hell was he planning to do?
I can’t think about it.
It makes me homicidal.
“Thank you, Sawyer.” I lift my eyes, trying to unclench my fists at my sides.
“You can always call me.”
She smiles at that and then sighs, standing by the stairs. “Is she still asleep?”
I nod. “As far as I know. She hasn’t been downstairs.”
“I’m going to go check on her. I’ll be right back.”
I’m surprised by that, expecting her to just go to her room. But I’m relieved she still wants to talk. While she goes upstairs, I take a seat on the couch. All the horrible scenarios of what could have happened to her running through my head.
I groan and tilt my head back, resting it against the couch, bringing my hands over my face. I jolt when I feel small hands on my forearms, lowering my hands. “Sorry.”
I smile at Piper and sit up straight. “She still asleep?”
She nods, curling her legs underneath her as she sits next to me on the couch. “Yeah. That kid can sleep through anything.”
“You okay?”
I watch her elegant throat as she swallows tightly. “I feel stupid.”
“You shouldn’t. What if it were Audrey . . . many, many years from now. If some dickhead put her in the same position you were in tonight, what would you want her to do?”
She ponders that, leaning the side of her head against the couch. “The same thing I did.”
“Exactly. You have good instincts, Piper. Gotta trust them.”
She snorts. “Yeah. My instincts are fantastic.”
I know she’s being sarcastic, and it’s a small, backhanded comment aimed at me, but she wouldn’t be where she is without her instincts. And I think she’s done a great job.
Her finger slides over my t-shirt where my tattoo is. “Why did you get this tattoo?”
My eyebrows pinch together as I search her face. “That’s what you want to talk about?”
“Distract me or my mind will be everywhere.”
The moment is so damn reminiscent of when we were younger that I’m nearly drowning in memories. “I wanted to remember the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Me.” Her voice is small, and I don’t like it as her gaze lowers to her finger tracing the letter even though she can’t see it.
I use my hand to tilt her chin up, making her eyes level with mine. “No. What I did to you.”
She swallows again and nods her head. “I should go to bed.”
Her hand drops to her lap, and I want to beg her to stay, but I don’t have that right. She’s had a hell of a night. And I know I’m the reason she hasn’t dated for so long in the first place. I doubt this experience is going to help her trust men.
I release her chin and give a clipped nod. “I’m glad you called me.”
She doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead—shockingly—she moves into my lap, her legs straddling my thighs. “Me too, Sawyer.”
I don’t dare move. Afraid it’s a dream or I’ll fuck it up as she places her hands on my chest and leans down, her lips brushing over mine slowly.
I don’t make a move, even though I’m dying to. I want to crash my lips against hers, wrap my arms around her, and hold her here with me forever.
But I remain still and let her take control as she presses her lips to mine, tentatively at first but then demanding I kiss her back. I oblige. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth and tangles with my own, pulling a moan from me.
My hands move to her back, smoothing over the silky material of her dress as we’re engaged in a war between teeth, tongues, and lips. While we’re losing ourselves in the moment, her fingers drift through my hair.
She tastes sweet, like maybe she had dessert on her date. My dick is achingly hard as she grinds on my lap, both of us a panting mess. I want her, but I can feel her resistance even before she pulls away.
She lets out a shaky breath as her eyes meet mine. “Goodnight, Sawyer.”
“You kissed me again.” The words are stupid, but they fall out of my mouth as she climbs off my lap, leaving a very prominent erection that I couldn’t hide even if I tried.
She bites on her puffy lower lip. “I wanted you to erase the memory of him.”
“And did I?”
She smiles, it’s bold and bright and so fucking beautiful as she nods. “You did. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
She walks away, heading toward the stairs, and I remain on the couch replaying every second of that kiss.
Since when am I totally whipped from a couple of kisses?
