Another Side Of Midnight. Mia Zachary
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I was almost overcome with the need to lean on him, to curl myself against his big body and take comfort from his warmth and strength. But I killed the thought as soon as it emerged. I’ve worked hard to shut myself off, to not need anyone and to take the hits alone so that no one ever paid for my mistakes again.
I looked away, reaching for the front door and yanking it wide to usher him out. He hesitated for a second then moved resolutely forward, brushing against me as he passed. Suddenly, he whipped around. His arm shot out and before I knew it he’d plastered me to his side. There was no tenderness in this kiss, just the silent insistence that it was a beginning, not the end.
He let go just as abruptly then turned away. He swaggered down the driveway without once looking back. I stood watching him go, dazed, until I realized my fingertips were tracing my mouth. Annoyed with both of us, I slammed the door and headed for the kitchen.
As I chose a shot glass from the cabinet and pulled the vodka out of the freezer, I wondered what the hell I was doing. I’d made a mistake with Stone. But which one had it been? Letting him get close, letting him matter or pushing him away?
Probably all of the above.
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