Smoke And Ashes. Danica Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ the life was his own. He tried hard, but despite his efforts, Colter was a mess and he didn’t spend nearly enough time with Lindsay. Everything he did was a struggle. Every choice was wrong or surrounded by guilt. He could never give Heather what she needed.

      She wiped the tears from her eyes as she stood up and moved to him, her hips swaying with purpose.

      What was she doing? She’d never looked at him like that before, with such intensity. If anything, she’d been overly insistent that they were friends...good friends, but that had been all. But that look, that light in her dark eyes, said there was something more—something he’d felt since the first moment he’d met her.

      He must have been reading her wrong. He stepped back until he bumped into the table beside the door. “Heather...”

      She put her finger on his lips, quieting him. Rising to her tiptoes, she swept her tear-dampened lips over the skin of his neck. Sparks of electricity shot down his body and reawakened a part of him that he had written off.

      “What’re you doing?” he tried to say, but it came out barely above a whisper thanks to the soft pressure of her finger against his lips.

      She slipped his earlobe into her mouth and sucked.

      Oh, God... He wanted this. He wanted her.

      He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his bed. He wanted to wake up covered in her scent, to lick her flavor off his lips. Her kiss moved lower. Her tongue traced the neckline of his shirt. Her hands moved up his chest.

      “Heather...” he moaned. “I want you...”

      Before he could say another word, her lips met his. She tasted sweet, like warm berries right off the vine. How could a woman taste so good?

      He wrapped his arms around her as he relished their kiss. He could do this forever...hold her forever...be with her forever.

      The scent of sweetened alcohol wafted from her. Kevin pulled back. Those lips, those pink, full lips weren’t berry flavored—they tasted of margarita.

      If she had been sober and come to him willingly and openly, it would have been hard for him to say no, but as it was, with her judgment skewed and muted by booze, there was only one choice.

      “Heather...” He unwrapped his arms from around her body. “We can’t do this. You can sleep here. You can have my bed. But tonight... This can’t happen.”

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