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I might look back on this very moment and kick myself.
I might regret it—unless I act.
Right now.
“Break room?” I say, aware of the new husky depth to my voice.
Her lip twitches very subtly. “For what?”
“I want a cup of coffee,” I lie.
Right now, I couldn’t care less about caffeine.
I want Gwen.
I want to kiss her good morning. I want to tell her that I missed her after she left my house last night. I want to tell her how hard it was to leave my house this morning, knowing that she’d soon arrive.
I want to tell her just how good it feels to see her now.
And I can’t do that here at her desk.
Not with all these eyes on us.
We walk to the break room in silence. As we walk, she tugs at the cuff of her sweater, like she’s nervous.
The minute we enter the empty break room, she closes the door behind us.
I lock it.
Better not to have anyone walk in on us.
I reach for her and circle my hand around her hip like I did when we stood near the pond. She draws closer to me until I can feel the warmth of her body pressed close to mine.
“Brock?” she whispers when I tuck her hair behind her ear.
“Yeah?”
“This is a lot. From you, passing by my desk every day without acknowledging me, to…” She rests her hand on my lower back.
My body tenses.
Those back muscles I worked don’t even ache anymore. They feel amazing. Alive. Tingly.
Her hand is warm through my shirt.
“What was I saying?” she asks.
I’m so close to her, I can breathe in the now-familiar scent of flowers. Her perfume has hints of roses. Or, is that her shampoo?
“Something about how this is a lot,” I tell her.
“Right. Sort of intense, and I don’t know if?—”
When I hold her like this, it’s very hard to concentrate. The curve of her waist fits so perfectly in my palms. Her sweater is soft. Her lips draw me in. I don’t even realize I’m leaning down until my lips are mere centimeters from hers.
“Oh,” she gasps. The word whispers across my lips.
“Good morning,” I whisper back.
