They were almost there when a loud, incessant chiming made him pull away, frowning. “What—”

Shit! Her cakes!

She untangled from his hold, reality rushing back in. She’d been kissing Keiran, while another Sinatra song swelled around them, while her oven had been signaling the cakes were ready. She had no idea how long the chiming had been going on for. All she knew was panic was setting in.

She’d kissed Keiran. Jesus, what was she thinking?

“Cherry,” he started. Using her nickname jolted her into action. She didn’t wait to hear the rest and fled to the kitchen instead to remove the cakes from the oven and clear her head because she’d fucked up. Her heart was a drumline, threatening to leap right out of her chest—this time, not in anticipation.

She had her head cupped in her oven-mitt-covered hands, the cakes cooling on the counter next to her when Keiran came up behind her.

“Cherisse.” Perhaps he’d realized the effect the use of her nickname had on her. He sounded wary, unsure. As he should be. She had no idea what she would do if he came any closer.

“You should go,” she said without turning around, lifting her head to stare at the wall beneath her cabinets. “Send me your playlist suggestions. We’ll go from there.” Calm, so calm. Something she didn’t feel at all right now, but she’d fake it until it felt true. She might need to take care of some other business when he left because she’d gotten riled up from that kiss alone.

“So, that’s it?” His tone was incredulous. What was he expecting exactly? That they’d carry on, make out some more, like that was normal for them? Because it wasn’t.

“Just please go. I can’t right now, okay?”

“Alright,” he said. She listened as his steps retreated, glanced over her shoulder to ensure he’d really gone. The slamming of her front door was proof enough of that.

She touched her lips, fingers tapping along the seam. The swirl in her belly swiftly gave way to dread.

Fucking hell, what did they just do?

Chapter 15

Keiran

EVERYTHING HURT. HE’D been going at it the last hour or so, and finally, his body said enough. The gym was mostly empty on a Sunday, so he could wallow in the pain as he basically flopped onto his back, body coated in sweat, muscles screaming. Not that it mattered. Surely, he wouldn’t be the first person to just lie on his back like this in the gym, like his spine was now fused to the floor, and he’d never get back up again.

He just needed to lay here a bit. Not think about sugary kisses. Definitely not dwell on hands that held his head in place to deliver more of the same sweet kisses he was totally not thinking about. She’d taken charge of that kiss, had steered it into something more intense, and Keiran hadn’t minded at all. It was so hot following her lead.