“You always do this,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“Make me forget what I was trying to be careful about.”
“Then don’t be,” I said, and kissed her until the rest of the night decided to wait its turn.
Chapter Twenty Five
Melanie
I hadn’t meant to let things get that far.
One minute, Drew was standing in my kitchen, sleeves rolled up, cooking like he owned the place. The next, I was pressed against the counter, tasting his mouth and wondering when common sense had packed up and left the building.
He’d told me toshow him my city,and somehow that had turned intoshow him my apartment,which turned intoshow him what happens when I forget every promise I ever made myself.
He’d cooked salmon—perfectly, of course. He always did everythingperfectly, right down to being the kind of man you shouldn’t want but do anyway. When he handed me the first bite, it was buttery and delicate and unfairly good. I told him as much.
“You win,” I’d said.
“I always do,” he’d answered, smiling like he knew exactly what kind of trouble that smile caused.
That was when it started to go sideways.
Not bad sideways—just dizzy, reckless, inevitable sideways.
I’d laughed, trying to deflect the heat rising between us. But every time our eyes met, the space seemed to shrink. My heart kept tripping over itself, and I couldn’t tell if it was the wine, the candlelight, or him.
Probably him.
“Tell me,” he’d said, his voice low, teasing, “why do you keep looking at me like that?”
I’d tried for sarcasm, but it came out a whisper. “Like what?”
“Like you’re deciding whether I’m worth the fallout.”
I’d meant to answer with something clever. Instead, I kissed him.
And that was the end of it.
The kiss deepened instantly, months of tension and distance snapping into a single, unstoppable current. My hands found the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer. He responded with the same urgency, one hand at the back of my neck, the other slipping to my waist. His mouth moved against mine—hungry, searching, as if he’d been waiting for permission he wasn’t sure I’d ever give.
If I had a thought left in my head, it was this:I’m going to regret this later.
But I couldn’t make myself care.
The table bumped my hip, and he murmured something that might’ve been my name or a prayer. My fingers slid into his hair,and his soft, rough exhale against my lips made me shiver all the way down.
“This is stupid,” I managed, breathless. “We’re stupid.”
He smiled against my mouth. “Then it’s our kind of stupid.”
That made me laugh—quiet and shaky, right before I kissed him again, harder this time. I could feel him smile into it, that familiar crooked grin that always undid me. Every cell in my body screamedyeswhile my brain whisperedrun.
I didn’t run.
I didn’t even try.
