Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

“Shut up,” I said, pressing my mouth to his.

For a moment, we both froze, our eyes open as we stared at one another in shock, as if we’d suddenly and joltingly found ourselves standing on a different planet. And then, like lightning, he groaned, pulling me close, and fitting his mouth perfectly over mine. I met his groan with one of my own, a feeling I could only call relief spiraling through me. The kiss deepened. Every part of the strange, alarming anger and sadness and confusion from moments before vanished as his heat enveloped me, his scent adding to the intoxication of the moment. Our tongues met, testing, and then tangled together as though our bodies already knew one another and were celebrating this long-awaited reunion.

He feathered his fingers down my back, tracing the laces of my dress, causing me to shiver, sensation flowing over every part of my body. Pull them, I wanted to say. Bare my body. Then cover it with yours.

What was happening to me?

He stroked my tongue with his, fire leaping through my veins, every cell alive. This is what drugs feel like, I thought. This is why people go back and back and back, doing whatever they must—whatever they shouldn’t—to make this feeling last. I squeezed my legs together and Travis let out a growl, low in his throat. I felt the vibration of it and it made my excitement soar higher, on some plane where gravity no longer existed.

I held on to him more tightly so I wouldn’t float away. He was hard everywhere—his arms, his chest, his cock that had swollen and was now pressing against my hip. I leaned closer into him.

“Haven. God.” He pulled away slightly and I sagged against him, feeling breathless and needy, both out of my body and deeply aware of every part of myself, most especially the parts that were tingling and throbbing and begging for relief.

I’d never been kissed like that.

“We shouldn’t . . .” he said, his voice hoarse, desperate. He stepped back farther, glancing around. I met his eyes. My God, I’d forgotten where I was. I’d forgotten who I was.

And my God, what a relief that had been.

I blinked. We shouldn’t. Those words were a bucket of water on the flames still licking at my bones. “No, I know. Of course. That was . . . sorry.” I took a trembling breath, wiping the wetness from my mouth and smoothing my hands over my dress. No, of course we shouldn’t. I’d just been . . . angry and . . . why had I kissed Travis?

He gave a short, pained laugh. “I meant, we shouldn’t here,” he said, his muscles held tight, his expression searching and slightly drugged. Had the kiss affected him too? He’d certainly participated.

Here. The Buchanan mansion. I closed my eyes momentarily, taking a few beats to get hold of myself. I glanced upward to where one of the balcony windows had a view of the place where we stood. When I looked back at Travis, he had a small frown on his face.

“No,” I agreed. “No. We shouldn’t anywhere.” He had a broken heart, and I’d just practically attacked him. Plus, I was interested in someone else. And the someone else’s family owned the house we were currently standing in.

Travis opened his mouth, then closed it, nodded.

I took a deep breath. “I think I need champagne.”

“I could use some too.”



**********



We arrived back at our B&B an hour later, both of us slightly stiff and awkward. We’d mingled for a little while, each having a glass of champagne. Travis had bid on a couple of items for the charity, and then we’d agreed to call it a night.

Gage had been gracious and kind when we’d sought him out to say goodbye, his eyes twinkling when he smiled at me with some form of affection. “I look forward to seeing you at the club, Haven.”

I’d smiled brightly at him, hope soaring that I hadn’t humiliated myself to the level I’d thought. Maybe he even thought I was . . . quirky in an attractive way. One could only hope. And another one of my mottos—one I wouldn’t share with Gage because I’d already done enough damage for one night—was that hope springs eternal.

I’d turned and caught Travis looking at us, that same glum expression on his face that had been there when I’d found him on the patio, and I’d wondered if it could be interpreted as jealousy.

And a different hope soared, one I was too tired and confused to look at in that moment.

We stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. Neither of us smiled.

I wanted to ask him if he regretted kissing me. I wondered if he’d compared it to kissing his girlfriend, the one who’d broken his heart, the one the gossips thought he’d cheated on when it was actually the other way around. I wondered if kissing me had made him long for her. Sometimes kissing someone else too soon after a breakup did more to amplify your sadness than to distract or heal. I wasn’t the foremost expert on relationships, but I knew that to be true.

“Thank you for—”

“I really am—”

Travis cleared his throat, inclining his head toward me, saying wordlessly that I should continue. “Thank you for taking me to Gage’s party, even if you did sabotage my efforts at coming off as a normal person.”

He gave me a half grimace, half smile, lowering his eyes. “I really am sorry about that.”

I waved my hand. “It’s okay. Maybe it ended up setting me apart.” As a freak.