Ignite

by Karen Erickson

  He took a deep breath, like he needed it for courage. “We’ve known each other for a long time,” he started.

  “And you’ve been gone for a long time,” she finished. Did he see her as the same silly little Harper Hill? His little sister’s best friend? God, she hoped not. She’d changed. So much so, she didn’t feel like the same person anymore. Even the girl she was before, that night when she and West kissed, she wasn’t her anymore either. She was older.

  Supposedly wiser.

  Maybe not so much, considering she was sitting there waiting with bated breath to hear what West had to say next.

  “There are a lot of things I regret,” he said, ducking his head so he stared at the table, pushing his plate away from him. “The last time we were together years ago, I didn’t handle things between us right. And I’m—I’m sorry about that, Harper. So damn sorry.”

  He said nothing else and neither did she. She couldn’t find the words, could hardly find any air left in her lungs. Was that all he had to say? Was he rejecting her again? God, she’d been right all along. She was supposed to protect her pride, protect her heart, and instead she’d laid it bare like a complete idiot.

  Yet again.

  Pushing away from the table, she stood, hurrying out of the tiny dining area without saying a word.

  “Harper,” she heard West call after her but she ignored him, too busy trying to get the hell out of there, too panicked he might try to say something else. Like how they should just be friends and there was nothing going on between them and what, she took that night of glorious kissing seriously? How silly could she be?

  Yeah, she couldn’t face that. No way.

  Grabbing her purse from where she’d left it, she slung the strap over her shoulder and reached for the front door handle just as West crowded her from behind. He slapped his hand flat against the door, preventing her from escaping, surrounding her completely with his big, warm body.

  She went completely still, the air stalling in her lungs as she tried to regain her composure. Surely she was overreacting. But he’d rattled her so completely it was hard for her to keep it together. Just being near him made her want to do stupid, reckless things.

  Like throw herself at him. Beg him to kiss her again like he had so long ago. Feel his arms come around her and hold her close. She wanted all of that, as crazy as it sounded. She may have been with Roger, may have even thought that she wanted to marry him at one point, but the truth was right here, standing directly behind her, literally breathing down her neck.

  She wasn’t over West Gallagher. Not by a long shot.

  “You didn’t let me finish what I was going to say,” he murmured, his fingers tangling in her hair, brushing it away from her neck. She sucked in a breath, tingles sweeping over her skin when he stepped even closer. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and she let it fall, heard it land on the tiled entryway with a soft clatter. “I don’t want to push you to do anything you don’t want, Harper. I know you just broke up with your boyfriend.”

  She trembled all over. He was so close he must’ve felt her body shaking. His fingers were still in her hair, skimming her nape, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed by his simple touch.

  “Ever since I saw you in the supermarket I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice low, so close it felt like he was speaking directly into her ear. “You looked so pretty, even when you were mad and insulting me.”

  Embarrassment threatened to swallow her whole. She never acted like that. There was something about West that brought out the worst in her.

  Or maybe he brought out the real her.

  “I remember exactly what you felt like in my arms, that night I kissed you,” he continued. “What you tasted like. The sounds you made. How you’d clutch me closer every time I tried to pull away.”

  She dipped her head forward, her eyes tightly closed as she remembered too. The way he felt, the sounds he made, the way he tasted. He shifted closer, his mouth—oh, God, his mouth—was right at her nape, his hands resting lightly on her hips. “I’m curious to see if it’s still just as good between us,” he murmured against her skin, his warm lips making her shiver.

  His hands on her body and his mouth moving against her neck made her want to melt. It was going to be good. So good she would probably combust at first touch of his mouth on hers.

  “Turn around, Harper,” he whispered into her hair, and she opened her eyes, turning slowly so she could face him. Her knees were so wobbly she leaned against the front door so she wouldn’t fall to the ground in a boneless heap. West stepped into her personal space, his big hands braced against the door on either side of her head, his intense gaze zeroed in on her lips. “I didn’t plan on this happening tonight.”

  “Plan on what happening tonight?” she asked with a slight frown. Oh, God, maybe he didn’t want her after all. Maybe he was trying to let her down easy? She should’ve just left. It was complete torture, knowing he was most likely going to say something nice so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable blow.

  “This.”

  His lids lowered as he dipped his head, his mouth landing on hers, and her eyes slid closed once more, relief flooding her as she automatically reached for him, looping her arms around his neck. He didn’t touch her, his hands remained on the door, but his mouth did wondrous things. Soft and seeking, warm and damp, his lips brushed against hers once. Twice. She parted her lips beneath his the third time, but he didn’t take it any deeper. No, he was slow, methodical, purposeful. Learning her, driving her out of her mind.

  He put some space between them and she slowly opened her eyes to find him watching her, his eyes glowing, his lips damp from her own. He was so close she could see the stubble lining his jaw, the faded scar just beneath his chin that he’d gotten when he crashed his bike into a fence at the age of eleven. It was kind of weird, kissing a man she’d known since he was a boy. Weird and . . .

  Thrilling. Yes, definitely thrilling.

  “Was it just as good as the last time we kissed?” she asked, surprised at her bravery. Pleased with her boldness. The simplest kiss in the world had the power to rattle her to the very depths of her soul. She sounded dramatic but it was true. West was exactly what she’d been searching for.

  Passion.

  “Better,” he confessed with the faintest smile just before he kissed her again. He took it deeper this time, teasing just the inside of her mouth with slow sweeps of his tongue before circling it around her own. She clutched the soft hair at his nape, her fingers tugging, trying to pull him closer. He still hadn’t put his hands on her and it was driving her crazy.

  Harper tilted her chin up, her hair rubbing against the door as she tried to shift the kiss even deeper. But West wouldn’t have it. He broke away from her, his mouth running along her jaw, down her throat, gently touching the sensitive spot just behind her ear. He bit her earlobe, making her gasp, her entire body throbbing with need.

  And still he hadn’t touched her.

  “I know what you want,” he whispered against her neck, sounding arrogant as hell. And so incredibly sexy too. If he knew what she wanted, then why wasn’t he giving it to her? “But the second I put my hands on you it’s all over.”

  “Wh-what’s all over?” She bent her head to the left, giving him better access, and he took it, kissing and—oh, God—licking her neck.

  Weston Gallagher had an amazing tongue.

  “My self-control.” He lifted his head, shifting himself away from her. “I’m afraid I’ll tear your clothes off once I get my hands on you.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat at the thought. Yes, please. Oh, she’d never been lucky enough to have a man so overcome with need for her that he tore her clothes off. That sounded absolutely wonderful.

  She slipped her hands away from his neck, over his shoulders, down his chest. He was firm. Muscular. And very, very warm. What would he do if she slipped her fingers beneath the hem of
his T-shirt and lifted it right off him? Maybe she was tempted to lose all self-control and tear his clothes off.

  Or maybe not. She was feeling brave tonight, but not that brave.

  “Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t . . . ” She shook her head.

  West removed one hand from the wall, pressing his fingers against her lips and silencing her. “Don’t lie to me, Harper. You were mad. That’s why you were running out of here like your feet were on fire.”

  How did he know her so well? Maybe since she was so obvious? Probably. “I thought you were going to . . . let me down easy,” she murmured against his fingers.

  “I thought you were angry at me for attempting to make a move on you,” he confessed, his hand dropping away from her mouth.

  “Why would I be mad about that?” It was what she’d wanted for years.

  “I come back into town, see you, and within twenty-four hours of our supermarket reunion, I hear you split with your live-in boyfriend. I figured you needed some time to . . . I don’t know . . . heal? Not deal with some guy from your past acting like he wanted to get in your panties.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear like he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  Oh. Did he really want to get in her panties? The only words floating through her brain were yes, please. And then, when can we make that happen?

  Whoops. That was definitely more than two words.

  “You wanted to, um, get in my panties?” Her voice squeaked on the last word. She actually said panties to West. And they were in reference to her panties. She should be mortified, but she wasn’t. No, more like aroused.

  Very aroused.

  “I’ve wanted to get in your panties for years,” he admitted, his voice so low she almost couldn’t hear him. “You turned sixteen, and I immediately wanted to jump you.”

  Say what? She sucked in a sharp breath, laughing as she lightly slapped him on the chest. “You did not.”

  He nodded. “I did too. You got all those pretty curves and the braces came off? Forget it. I was done for.”

  “You were a senior when I turned sixteen.” He’d had his pick of girls. All three Gallagher boys had a reputation. With their good looks, easygoing attitudes, and natural athleticism, they were extremely popular. Smart. Friendly. Guys wanted to be their friends. Girls wanted to be their girlfriends. Everyone was naturally drawn to them, and West was the most charismatic of the bunch.

  Well, he was to Harper.

  “I know. And my sister’s best friend.” He shook his head. “And underage. Just . . . I thought we were a bad idea.”

  Wow. She’d always thought they’d be a great idea. She couldn’t believe he’d been interested in her for so long.

  “I’m thinking we might still be a bad idea,” he said softly, his words causing dread to seep into her skin, reminding her that they were definitely not on the same page.

  They weren’t even in the same freaking book.

  She stiffened and curled her hands into fists, pushing him away from her. He went stumbling back, the shock on his face obvious. How stupid could she be? Falling for his lines? Letting him kiss her again?

  Clearly he made her stupid. Like, unbelievably stupid. And she wasn’t a stupid person. Though when it came to men, maybe she was. She felt all over the place. From calm, stable Roger to sexy, outrageous West—what in the world was she doing?

  SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. Why’d he have to go and say that? Harper was looking at him like she wanted to rip his head off when only moments ago she’d been in his arms, his mouth on her smooth, soft neck, savoring all those sweet little sighs she made. It was just as good between them as the last time they’d kissed. No surprise. But she was sweet and warm and giving and so incredibly responsive. She wanted more from him. She didn’t have to say it, but he knew. And she deserved to be with a man who wanted to give her more.

  He didn’t think he could be that man.

  Running a hand through his hair, he kept space between them, waiting for her to grab her purse off the floor and leave. He wouldn’t blame her. Couldn’t hold it against her if she made her escape. Not that he wanted her to leave, but . . .

  If she stayed, he’d fuck her. She deserved more than that, a quick fuck. And that was all he was good for. All he could offer. Permanency wasn’t a part of his vocabulary. Being with a girl, having a relationship? He’d never really experienced one beyond high school stuff and that didn’t count. Once he graduated and started working for Cal Fire, he’d never had time for a steady girlfriend. Ever.

  He was twenty-eight years old and had no idea how to make a relationship work. How pitiful was he?

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by saying that, Harper,” he started, but she glared at him, making his lips clamp shut. Damn it, he needed to get this out. Reassure her that it wasn’t her, but him. “It’s just . . . you deserve someone better than me.”

  She made a face. “Give me a break. Are you serious?”

  Great, here she went, calling him out on his shit. Not that he didn’t deserve it. “I’m not what anyone would call boyfriend material.” That sounded lame. He scratched the side of his head, uncomfortable with the way she studied him. Like he was a bug pinned on a board, wiggling and desperate to make his escape. “Plus, you just came out of a long relationship. You have to agree trying to dive back into another one probably isn’t the smartest move.”

  Her mouth dropped open, her upper lip curled in the slightest sneer. “Awfully arrogant, aren’t you? Assuming I’d want to call you my boyfriend after one measly kiss?”

  He blinked, surprised at her tone. She didn’t sound like the Harper he knew. Not even close. “Isn’t that what you—”

  Harper interrupted him with a very firm shake of her head. “No, West. I never said I wanted to be in a relationship with you. You haven’t been home in almost eight years. I hardly know you—or should I say the you that you are now.”

  “So what are you saying? That you want to hook up with me?” He started to chuckle, the idea so unfathomable, he could hardly wrap his head around it. Harper Hill didn’t hook up with anyone. He couldn’t imagine getting her into his bed, fucking her brains out, and then never really talking to her again. One, she wouldn’t stand for it. And two . . .

  Well.

  Maybe he could imagine getting her into his bed. And fucking her brains out. All night long. Enjoying every single minute of having her naked and beneath him, sweaty and clinging to him while she cried out his name as he pounded deep inside her. Okay, yeah, he could definitely imagine that. But could he see himself walking away from her afterward?

  No. He cared about her too much—as a friend. And that was why friends with such a long, shared history couldn’t hook up. Too much other stuff had the potential to come between them.

  For one, his sister would probably kill him if he hurt Harper. Her grandma would kick him out of his condo for screwing around with her granddaughter. If his parents ever found out, they’d be horrified. The entire town would gossip about them. His brothers would think he was crazy.

  This could never work. Ever.

  “If you’re going to just stand there and laugh, I definitely don’t want to hook up with you. Ever.” She bent and grabbed her purse off the floor, slinging it over her shoulder almost violently as she turned her back to him. “Thanks for the pizza. Good night.”

  “Harper,” he started, but it was too late. She slipped through the door and slammed it behind her, leaving a fragrant cloud of her scent surrounding him. A delicious mixture of her lotion, shampoo, and perfume. “Damn it,” he muttered, pacing around the front entryway, growling with frustration when he heard her car start outside.

  Not the way he wanted to end his evening with Harper. He’d fucked it up royally.

  But what else was new?

  Chapter Eight

  SATURDAY NIGHT. HARPER desperately needed a break, a way to escape her thoughts. Bad enough she was working on such a tedious project at
her grandma’s restaurant. Cleaning out old filing cabinets was not exciting in the least. Worse? With nothing much to focus on, her mind was always filled with West. West smiling at her when they agreed on a paint color. West goading her into eating more pizza dipped in disgusting, delicious ranch. West telling her he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her.

  West actually kissing her . . . only to ruin it by opening his big mouth and saying the stupidest stuff imaginable. She’d run out on him and hadn’t looked back. He’d hadn’t called her, texted her, nothing. It had been nothing but radio silence.

  Granted, it had been only twenty-four hours since she saw him last, but still. It felt like longer. Much longer.

  So when Delilah texted asking if she wanted to go out to dinner, Harper immediately said yes. She waited for her friend at the restaurant now, a tiny, trendy place with beautifully simple menus that elegantly described salads and sandwiches and served chilled glasses of wine. The sort of place that appealed to tourists, where locals rarely stopped in to eat, it was the perfect setting for Harper’s much-needed escape.

  Wren wasn’t able to join them since she was sick with a raging case of horrific stomach flu. No one wanted to be near her, so she was holed up in her tiny one-bedroom cottage trying to recover. Harper felt terrible even thinking this, but she’d never been so grateful for someone getting sick. Without Wren there, she felt free to confess what happened between her and West last night. Yeah, it was risky telling Delilah, but Harper felt like she was going to burst if she didn’t tell someone that she kissed West. That she was in lust with West and couldn’t stop thinking about him. That she had a wicked plan forming in her brain that involved him and she needed someone to tell her if she was being crazy or not.

  She was being crazy. She had to be. But for once in her life, she sort of didn’t care. She wanted to run with it. Go against type and surprise everyone, especially herself.

  Oh, and West. Definitely West.

  “Sorry I’m late!” Delilah sat in the chair across from hers, a big smile on her face as she pushed her long, dark hair away from her shoulder. “I got held up by one of the moms. She wanted to complain about her daughter’s lack of focus.”