Once again, I stared at my disheveled self in the mirror of the café bathroom. My cheeks were flushed, my lips slightly swollen, and my pulse was still skittering like it couldn’t decide whether to slow down or race. What the hell is happening to me?
“s**t,” I muttered, turning on the tap and splashing cold water over my face. My fingers trembled as I patted myself dry with a paper towel. I wasn’t just reacting to a kiss—I was reacting to him. Jackson. And that terrified me.
He wants something more.
Do I?
A little voice inside me said yes. Another one screamed not yet. Not when the ashes of what I left behind were still warm.
I glanced at my watch. Twenty minutes. Jesus. I’ve been hiding in here for twenty minutes. He probably thinks I bailed. Or fainted. Or jumped out the window.
Ta
