His eyes light up. “Fuck, yessss, okay. Let’s go to the chair.”
He’s on his feet and tugging me across the space back to the same seat I had my mini panic attack in and pushing me down to the cushions with more force than I expect from his lithe frame.
“Damn, you’re strong,” I murmur as he leans over me with palms to my thighs, his hair falling out from behind his ear. It’s just long enough to reach the short space between us and tickle my chin.
I suppress a shiver.
His shimmering gaze is cataloging my face and I’m incapable of looking away.
Having him this close … his breath mingling with mine … it makes my chest rise easier.
I reach up and tuck that strand back behind his ear.
He hums, eyes sliding closed, and rests his forehead on mine.
“I have garlic breath,” he whispers.
“So do I.”
“Your glasses are sexy.”
A surprised chuckle escapes me. “Thank you? I’m a little attached to them.”
He hums again, and I feel it vibrate through the side of his nose that’s pressed to mine. He’s inching closer, or maybe I am, until I feel the tiniest hint of warmth on my lips.
My lower stomach tightens at the idea of him kissing me. The anticipation is making it harder to breathe. His grip on my legs feels stronger than before. Like he’s leaning into me for support.
After what happened earlier … I like that he is. That he’s not afraid I’ll panic and run out on him like everyone else in my life seems to be.
Braving a deeper breath, I close the distance between us.
At first, he seems surprised—hell, I am, too—but then his lips are moving and he’s kissing me back.
The dam inside me breaks, and every feeling I’ve known about myself for decades floods to the surface. Every missed touch. Every urge. Every attraction to the guys in the movies and books and—
He pulls back with a smile, his sharp eyes soften, and he searches my face.
“I’m not freaking out,” I offer, my voice cracking.
“Looks like you’re freaking out.”
I shake my head and cup his face in my hands, feathering my thumbs over his sparkling cheeks.
“You make me feel brave,” I murmur softly.
His eyes glitter and his lips take on a cocky grin right before he slips out of my hands. His fingers trail up my arm, featherlight and teasing as he steps around the back of the chair.
I follow him with my eyes until he’s too far behind me to see, his figure blurring at the edge of my glasses. His hands, warm and light, stay on me the whole time as he steps up to my back and leans in, draping himself overmy shoulders. It feels like donning a cape that has my chest puffing and my gaze front facing.
Right at the camera.
“I can feel your heart thumping,” he whispers, lips grazing my ear. It’s not the only organ that’s taken notice of his presence, especially as he lightly wraps his arms across my chest.
It makes me imagine other things he’d do while behind me, holding onto me.
I have to cross my legs to hide the reaction from Sadie, but he’s got the perfect view from where he is.
He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers slip in between the buttons on my shirt, the tips grazing my skin.
