It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,63

beat him at his own game if I had to.

As he lowered his lips to mine, I forgot how to breathe. My arms wrapped around him. I told myself it was so I didn’t drop to the floor like an ungraceful sack of potatoes. I was a liar. I’d wanted to touch the man since the first time I’d seen him.

“You ready?” he whispered so seductively I was pretty sure I lost a few brain cells.

If this was the windup, I couldn’t even imagine what the kiss was going to feel like.

“Give it your best shot, Reaper,” I said. My voice sounded uneven and breathy. It mirrored my riotous insides.

“With pleasure,” he said as his lips touched mine—and a shot of something unfamiliar flowed through my body.

I moaned and wanted to smack myself for letting this happen. The kiss was more intimately intense than any sex I’d had in my entire forty years. What the hell was I thinking?

I’d expected his mouth to crush mine and take what he wanted. I couldn’t have been more wrong. As his lips gently parted mine, I felt a breathlessness in a new and unfamiliar way. It felt as if the entire world around us evaporated and we floated on some kind of cloud.

The kiss was like nothing I’d ever felt before. And suddenly I understood what all of those silly romance novels were talking about when they described kissing as melting. Every inch of me seemed to dissolve into him.

Gideon stole my breath as his tongue searched my mouth with a ravenous desire. I stole his right back. It terrified me that every other kiss I’d had in my life up until this one had been wrong. Right now, I had no clue where I began and he ended. We were one, and filled with an urgent need I’d never experienced with any other man.

“Stop,” I whispered against his mouth. My breathing came in short gasps. I was half ready to drag the man to my bedroom and find out what would happen.

Gideon’s breathing matched mine. He pressed his forehead to mine and loosely caged me against the door with his arms. I could get away easily if I wanted to. However, the idiot part of me didn’t want to.

“That was unreal,” he whispered with his eyes closed as he got a grip on his breathing.

Slipping out from under his arms, I crossed the family room and placed myself behind a large armchair. I didn’t trust him or myself right now.

“You need to go,” I told him, staring at my hands holding on to the chair with a death grip.

Gideon said nothing for a long moment. But his parting words were a doozy.

“Just the beginning, Daisy,” he said softly. “This is just the beginning.”

Without another word, he left, closing the front door quietly behind him.

My knees buckled and I dropped to the floor. Donna and Karen came over and pressed their furry bodies against mine. His words were a warning and a promise. They were also terrifying.

Guilt consumed me and my eyes filled with tears. I’d never felt this way even once when I’d kissed my husband. What the hell was wrong with me?

I couldn’t figure it out. I had no answers… just sadness and guilt. Steve had deserved better than me. Yes, he’d been my best friend and I’d loved him. But I’d never felt this way about him.

I’d never once forgotten my name or felt like I was literally part of him when our lips touched.

I had cheated him out of something wonderful, and now he was dead. I could still taste Gideon on my lips and the tears came faster. They quickly turned into racking sobs. My dogs and the dead surrounded me and tried to comfort me. There was no comfort to be had.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” I whispered brokenly as I pulled the afghan off the back of the chair and made myself comfortable on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

I had no clue how long I cried, but eventually I was so bone-tired that sleep stole my grief. As my eyes closed, my lips formed a small smile. My dogs and my deceased squatters had settled all around me and were falling asleep. It was bizarre and bizarrely right.

Midlife was more than a series of crises. It was a freaking destination, and the ride was seriously bumpy.

Chapter Sixteen

Any hopes that last night was a dream were dashed when I looked at my black and blue hand. The knuckles