Page 76 of One Last Shot

But of course, she didn’t listen to herself. In fact, she took a step toward him. He hadn’t moved and still possessed a sort of hypnotic pull, his eyes drawing her in.

Yes, she knew exactly what was going on between them.

“I’m not Blake.”

No, no, he wasn’t.

He might actually be the opposite of Blake. Kind, self-deprecating, humble...

She touched his shirt. “The thing is, I do trust you.” Her breath quickened. “And that’s... that’s a problem.”

“Is it?”

She nodded. “I don’t have a lot of room in here for...”

“Trust?”

“Or relationships.”

“I don’t need company.” He lowered his head, his breath near hers.

“Don’t hurt me.” She lifted her face to his.

“Not in a million?—”

She kissed him. Just rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. A sudden, desperate impulse of desire that would slip away if she didn’t take it.

So yeah, she kissed him. Hard, and for a second—no, not evena second—he froze.

And then he ran his hand behind her neck and crushed her against him.

She grabbed his shirt, held on as he braced his hand against the wall and moved her into the pocket of his embrace. The wall at her back, she wrapped her arms around his torso and let herself relax.

Just like that, the knots inside loosened, fell away, and her mouth opened, and she let him deepen his kiss, drinking him in.

Maybe she’d never felt so safe.

Maybe she’d never felt so seen.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst mistake of her life.

Especially when he made a little noise, like a sigh, then lifted himself away and met her eyes. Smiled. “Through stormy nights and sunny days, she’s the anchor that keeps me from drifting away.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Oaken?”

Under her hands, she felt his body still as a female voice cast over them. He looked over his shoulder, then stepped away from her.

It felt like a punch to her sternum.

A cover-model-gorgeous woman dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, leggings, and Uggs stood at the end of the hallway carrying a coffee. She wore her long hair down and looked every inch like someone Oaken should be with.

Of course.

“Seraphina. What are you doing here?”

Oh no, no, this couldn’t be?—