“Oh, Jesus—” I mutter.
His hands cup my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He’s still catching his breath, but he searches my face, concern written all over his.
I swallow, a feeble attempt to conquer these warring emotions. My whole body is humming and yet my heart is racing, my stomach tight.
It’s not unlike the torment of bungee jumping. The adrenaline surging in your veins and the swirl of nausea when you look down and think,Am I really going to jump? That’s insane!
I feel just like that. Except right now, I’m not safely strapped into a harness.
I make myself look straight into Zach’s eyes. “I-I need a minute.”
Zach frowns, but I know it’s not his irritated frown. He’s studying me, his hand on my cheek both solid and light. No pressure. Just presence. “Talk to me, Greta.”
I try to marshal my thoughts. I want to explain all of this to him. I want him to understand. I just don’t know where to start.
He presses his lips together, his brows dropping. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, God, no.”And then because I can’t help it, I kiss him once. Twice. Just quick pecks on his sweet mouth, but I don’t regret them when his frown relaxes. His thumb sweeps up and down my cheek before making a tender glide over my lips.
They feel just a little bit raw and tingle under this gentle touch.
God, I love it. I love that he hasn’t let go even though I’ve pulled back. It gives me hope.
I suck in a breath. “I need… to understand—” I halt because I realize the question I’m about to ask is wholly presumptuous. And, Jesus. We’re just kissing.
I can’t ask where we stand or what this means.
What if it’s just that. We’re two grown ass adults. We both have needs. Zach knows I’m not gettin’ any, and unless he’s been hookin’ up with the occasional female guest—and honestly, most of our guests tend to be his parents’ age—he’s as hard up as I am.
Maybe I’m just convenient.
The thought makes my stomach turn.
“Hey, what’s that look mean?” His question and knitted brow tell me I’m wearing every single one of my feelings on my face.
Get it together, Ste. Marie.
“Um… I—”
Before I can spiral anymore, Zach surprises me like he always does. By being himself. By reminding me that I’m not alone.
“Do we need to slow down?” His question is gentle. Tentative. But what grips me most is that it’s also hopeful.
“Slow down?”And now I’m hopeful too.
Slow downdoesn’t meanstop now and never speak of this.
Slow downdoesn’t meanit’s now or never.
Which is a good thing because I’d really, really like to keep going—under the right circumstances. If I knew it was safe. Going fast definitely isnotsafe. Not when my entire livelihood and future plans are tied to this man, and crossing into this territory where smokin’ hot kissing and a whole lot of feelings threatens everything.
A rueful smile creeps over Zach’s face. “Yeah. I mean, I know I’ve made it obvious that I’m pretty crazy about you, but—”
“Wait,what?”
His brows bounce. And then he coughs a disbelieving laugh. “C’mon,” he goads. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
I swallow.
