his phone out of his pocket and stares down at the screen. He looks directly at me. “It’s my wife,” he says.
I try not to let the disappointment show. I set down my wine glass. “You should probably answer it.”
Saint also sets his wine glass on the counter beside him. “You’re right. I should answer it.”
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he tosses the phone on the counter and then closes the gap between us. He slips a hand behind my head and presses his mouth to mine.
It happens so suddenly and unexpectedly, I suck in a gasp.
His tongue slides into my mouth and it causes instant chills to roll over me. I press myself against him, just as his lips close over mine. He tastes like mint and Merlot, and I immediately know that’s how I’ll describe Cam’s mouth when I describe this kiss in the book.
His phone is still buzzing away on the counter and I love that he chose this kiss over answering her phone call. I was right about that feeling, at least. Reya would feel a little triumphant.
Maybe I was right about all the feelings, because I also feel guilty right now.
The phone stops buzzing, and when it does, the only sound in the cabin is Saint’s mouth on mine and the moan his kiss pulls out of me. He slips a hand to the small of my back, and as soon as I press my palms against the sides of his neck, his phone begins buzzing again.
He pulls away from me and presses his forehead to mine with a sigh. I gasp for air because no kiss has ever left me this breathless. This affected. I open my eyes, but his eyes are still closed.
His phone is still buzzing.
He moves his head to the side of my head so that his mouth is right over my ear.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
He pulls away. Grabs his phone.
Leaves.
The door slams behind him and I have never felt more alone in this cabin than I do right now. He filled me with so many feelings just now, only to rip them away in almost the same moment.
I ache. I don’t know what for. More of that kiss. More of his flirtation. More of that triumphant feeling.
I hear the gravel crunch beneath his tires as he pulls away from the house, and even after he’s been gone several minutes, I’m still standing in the same spot, touching my lips with my fingertips.
The reaction that surprises me the most right now is my smile. If I were to have written Reya and Cam’s first kiss last night, I never would have thought she would smile after he left the way he did.
But I’m smiling.
I walk straight to my computer and open it. For the second night in a row, I write more than I normally write in a week.
FOUR
IT’S BEEN THREE days since Saint kissed me.
The day after the kiss, writing went great. I wrote several chapters, and even rewrote some of the beginning of the book to make Cam more like Saint.
But yesterday was a slow writing day, and it looks like today is going to be another day just like yesterday.
I talked to Candice last night, but I didn’t tell her about the kiss. I’m never telling anyone. That is definitely something I want to keep extremely private. I’ve always been a private person. I write under my real name, but it’s a common name, so I’ve never worried too much about my personal life being revealed to my readers. They know very little about me. I have the version of myself I portray to the readers, but none of them know if I’m dating or married or single or a mother. I don’t put anything out there beyond my writing and I want to keep it that way.
Which is why—as much as I trust Candice—I would never tell her about my kiss with Saint.
But as much as what we did felt like cheating—it also felt like research in a way. Like maybe Saint was merely helping me get over a roadblock.
Obviously, kissing someone else would never be forgiven by a spouse based on the excuse that it’s research, but it sure as hell makes it easier to forgive myself with that excuse. I feel very little guilt. I don’t know what that says about me.
In fact, I feel so little guilt, I’m starting to wonder how far I can take this thing with Saint. Cam and Reya have kissed in