“Help me to not hurt, Johnny.”
She knew what she was asking. Didn’t care that it wasn’t smart. Or good. That it had no future. This was Johnny.
His lips seemed to take forever to reach hers. She waited for him. Wanted the moment to last forever. No more pain. No more losing Johnny.
He was here. Hers. Wanting her.
His lips landed and sent a shock through her entire body. A slow-moving, sharp and yet warm shock that touched everywhere. His kiss was soft. Not invasive. Adrenaline flooded her; excitement filled her. Without warning, Johnny’s arms were around her, pulling her so close she could feel his heart beat against hers. His tongue was in her mouth; one hand was in her hair, the other on her hip. He kissed as expertly as he did everything else in life and she met him, move for move. Her hands slid under his T-shirt to feel the shoulders and the chest that had drawn her attention the very first time she’d ever seen him. And every day since.
She wriggled, wanting to feel him lower down, to push her crotch against the hardness he’d shown her earlier, but he managed to keep them chest to chest, their butts still on the couch.
Tabitha groaned. Impatient. She was giving herself this moment and trying to give him what he needed, too. To ease his discomfort. Because she wanted to in the worst way.
“Johnny...” She was going to tell him. They had to just do it—before the wine wore off and she had time to think.
To remember that they’d made no plans concerning birth control. Not a risk she could afford to take.
And she’d be alone to deal with the emotional consequences of making love with him—and then losing him.
That thought slowed her down.
“I know,” he said. “There’s a chance this will hurt you, too.”
She nodded. Damn it. She didn’t want to be hurt any more. But... “A good chance,” she told him, pulling back. Because while he’d be leaving her to live in a completely different world—one where he was happy, one where he fit—she’d be in the same old place, alone once again.
Unless she got Jackson back.
Then she could handle the pain of losing Johnny.
Would handle it.
For her son’s sake.
* * *
Why had he ever thought he could kiss Tabitha and not pay one hell of a price for doing it?
Johnny knew the rules. For everything. Made lists of them. Created a load of them. And couldn’t remember a time he’d knowingly broken a single one. Why bother? He’d never been driven to the point of needing to.
Not even for Angel’s food truck. He’d played completely by the rules. And the venture was proving to be as successful as everything else he’d ever attempted.
And then there was his partnership with Tabitha. For the first time, he was facing failure. He was failing her. He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t get it right. And couldn’t figure that out, either.
On the surface, everything was fine between them. No more awkwardness. But no more closeness, either. They were like two boxers in their respective corners. They circled. They put on a show of shaking hands for the crowd.
In other words, they worked the truck and raked in the money.
And for the next two days, they had not one word of personal conversation.
Wednesday night, after getting back to the suite with takeout, she went into her room with her share—to shower and eat in bed with the TV on, she said. Johnny sat alone on the couch and ate every bite of his.
Food usually made him feel better.
Apparently not when it came to failure, though.
For twenty minutes he sat there staring at her closed door. Thinking about different ways to get her back out. From knocking on her door with numerous excuses to phoning her. Even calling out to her. Immediately dismissing all the options as they presented themselves, he threw away his trash and headed in to shower.
He ended up at the desk in his room, instead, tablet out and on, stylus in hand, rocking back in the chair to gaze out at the view of the harbor. When answers that were usually present remained elusive, he did the only other thing he could think of. He picked up his phone.