Читать книгу Captivated: Letting Go / Seize the Night - Меган Харт - Страница 15

Chapter Six

The best part of making mistakes was learning from them. Colleen’s dad had said that often, always when she’d blundered in some way or another, although he’d always been good about never making her feel like an idiot for messing up. He would’ve said it about her marriage to Steve, she knew that much, if he’d been alive to see it happen. There were times when she’d wished the heart attack that had taken her father too young had spared him long enough to have said it. Other times, she was glad he’d never had to see her mess up so terribly in something so important.

What would he have said about Jesse?

She simply didn’t know. It hadn’t felt like a mistake at the time. Taking him home, spending the weekend with him. Fucking him until they were both weak-kneed and faint and aching in places she didn’t know she had muscles. But on Monday morning, when he’d insisted on shoveling out her car for her before heading back to his own, it had begun to feel like she’d screwed up. Big-time.

He’d kissed her on her front porch, and she’d let him because it would’ve been impossible to refuse after the weekend they’d shared. Not unless she wanted to come across as, well, cold and frigid. Or rude. So she’d let him kiss her, even though it had felt too much like a promise she knew she couldn’t keep.

He was too young. Too handsome. Too eager to please her. He made her feel too much in too short a time. She was ripe to be swept off her feet, seeing as how it had been a damn long time since she’d so much as kissed a man, much less had wild, passionate, unfettered sex with one.

This could only lead to misery and heartbreak. Hers. She felt the stirrings of it already, that yearning to see him again though it had only been a day since that last kiss. The constant checking of her phone to look for a text that couldn’t possibly be there, since she hadn’t given him her number. Yet still hoping he’d magically found it. Worse, the urge to saunter on down to The Fallen Angel all casual-like, even though it was not a Thursday and he might not be working. Or he might be, which wouldn’t be any better, because then he’d know for sure she was there to see him, and he would know that she liked him. All of this was a giant platter of nope with a side order of hell no.