Finding Delaware (State of Us #1)

by Bree Wiley

He squints with pursed lips at the monstrosity we made, and it’s so fucking cute that an overwhelming urge to press against those lips with my own hits me like a steamroller. His gaze swings to mine as he goes still, eyes darkening from whatever he sees on my features. We’re standing so close that I can see the flakes of snow gathering on his lashes, but it’s still too far. I want to feel his breath on my skin, feel its warmth soak into my bones. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning in closer, gaze bouncing between his eyes and mouth as his nostrils flare. His chest hitches, gloved fingers clenching at his sides, and a small gasp leaves his lips when I get close enough for our noses to touch. I mean to capture it, to open my mouth against his and taste what I’ve been craving since he ordered me out of the shower four years ago. Before we can connect, though, he jerks back so hard that he nearly slips on the ice. On reflex, my hand shoots out to steady him, but he smacks it away. His cheeks are red, pupils dilated. Not in desire, no… In anger. Wrath. Pure, unadulterated rage. Shit. I fucked up. “Huckslee, wait!” I shout as he spins around and runs toward the cabin. It’s more of a fast shuffle, really, because of the ice, but I can see the tension in his back even through the snowsuit, chords taut in his neck. He gets inside before I do, and when I enter the cabin, I find him in the kitchen with his hands in his hair and shoulders heaving. “Hey, look, I’m sorry–” He whi...