Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Yeah, she felt it.
“I needed to talk to you about something,” I tell her.
It’s true, but I also need a distraction from the tension that keeps sparking between us.
“What’s up?” She turns to face me, leaning one hip against the sink. Water from the dishes has splashed onto her dress, and the material is nearly transparent and clinging to her breasts. It’s driving me out of my mind. I drag my eyes to her face.
“It’s about Vashti.”
Her expression shutters, but her gaze goes alert. “I think I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?” I doubt it, but I’m interested to hear what she thinks she knows.
“I, um, saw the two of you on New Year’s Eve. After I stepped out of the cellar. I looked back and the two of you were…” She blinks down at the hardwood floor. “Hugging.”
I lift my brows, not sure where she’s going with this.
“I assume you want to tell me that you two are getting back together,” she says in a rush. “I know you still care about each other and—”
“She wants to go to Charlotte.”
Shock flares the gold flecks in her eyes, but there’s something else. Before she has time to disguise it, relief flashes across her face like a neon sign.
“When you saw us hugging on New Year’s Eve, she had told me she wants to take the position as head chef at Grits Charlotte, and I said that would be fine.” I watch Yasmen for more clues to how she really feels. “She’ll spend the next few months making sure Cassie is ready to take over here, which shouldn’t be a problem because—”
“Cassie’s great,” she cuts in absently. “She won’t miss a beat. How do you feel about this?”
“You mean do I think we’ll be okay here in Atlanta? Yeah, I think we’ll be fine as long as—”
“Not about Grits. About Vashti leaving.”
“It’s what she wants to do,” I say, shrugging, but not quite meeting her eyes.
“But she loves it here. She’s always said she wants to be here.”
“Not anymore.”
“Because you two broke up?”
“Because she thinks you and I will eventually get back together, and she doesn’t want to see it.”
I didn’t intend to say it, to tell her the root cause of Vashti’s departure, or maybe I did. Like a chemist in a laboratory pouring the truth all over litmus paper. I want to see what color Yasmen turns.
“She-she does?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the counter and grip the rim of the sink. “She thinks it’s only a matter of time.”
“Did you tell her that’s ridiculous?” Yasmen asks, eyes fixed on my face, and her breaths coming out shaky. “That you don’t want me anymore? That you wouldn’t touch me with a six-foot pole?”
I’m a glutton for punishment and a fool for lust because despite going weeks convincing myself one night would have to be enough, I cup her jaw and lay my hand at her waist, drawing her into me.
“I’m touching you now.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Yasmen
This is what they call a moment of truth.
Ever since my last session with Dr. Abrams, I promised myself if I got the chance to show Josiah how I felt, I would. What was the use of retrieving that necklace from the fountain, of not letting go of hope, if I don’t seize the chance to fulfill it?
“And I,” I say, pressing into his hard body, “am touching you.”
He towers over me, looking down through a long sweep of lashes, the muscle in his jaw tensing under the taut brown skin.
“Yas,” he says, the baritone of his voice lower, huskier. “Be careful. Unless you—”
I raise up on my toes and kiss the words right out of his mouth. I’m done being careful and quiet. That route almost lost me this man for good. I plunge my tongue into his mouth, licking into him—hungry, thirsty, parched, starved—and he groans into our kiss. He grips my back, flattening my breasts to his chest. His hands meet at my spine and slide down to my waist and then cup my ass. Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me higher until our hips are flush, and the steel of him presses through the cotton of my dress. I can’t resist slipping my hands between us to feel it for myself.
When I grip him through his pants, he releases my mouth and drops his forehead to mine.
“Yas,” he breathes. “I can’t…You don’t want—”
“I do want.” I nip at his neck with my teeth. “I know what we said, but not one day has gone by when I haven’t thought about that night.”
He goes still, catching my eyes with his and tracing his thumb across my mouth. “Me too.”
Hands encircling my waist, he hauls me up to sit on the counter, legs spread. Standing between my thighs, he pushes the dress up until my legs are bare under his fingers.