“Fuck.” I release her as fast as I can and step two full paces back. “I’m sorry.”
Her arms wrap around her center and she bends forward. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath in and out. I give her all the space she needs. If I could punch myself in the face, I would. My physical power dwarfs hers. It’s not fair that I can take her over so easily. She’s so strong in my mind. I forget that she’s fragile inside. Mrs. Jenkins’s warning replays.
I circle around, hands on my head, swearing to myself for my stupidity. Every time I get close to her, I do something fucking stupid and push her away. She’ll never learn to trust me at this rate.
When I check on her again, she’s against the wall, arms still wrapped around herself, but she’s leaning back, chin up, head resting on the brick.
“I’m so sorry I scared you.” I step toward her, but not too close. “I thought it would be funny.”
“You didn’t.” She sniffs. “It wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again and stare deep into her eyes, pouring all my sincerity into them. We aren’t touching. I don’t want her to feel trapped in this position. There’s plenty of room for her to get away from me.
“Okay.”
“I don’t know what else to say.” Slowly, I lift a hand and brush back a few strands of hair from her lips. “I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“I’m okay.” She drops her hands to her side. “Stop apologizing.”
I wait for her to push past me and huff away. But she doesn’t. Her gaze moves to my mouth.
I still. Am I imagining the signs or is she sending them? Her breath isn’t calming down. Her eyes are still wide, and her face is flushed. The first move is hers. I already fucked up too much.
But I can show her that I want to kiss her so fucking bad.
I move slowly, giving her plenty of time to leave. Plenty of time to make some witty remark or cutting blow that’ll make me laugh. Ruining this is not an option. If she walks away from this moment, I’m done.
I step closer to her. She straightens at my approach. Pushes off the wall. I wait to be rejected. To be shunned. I lean toward her, only halfway. Her eyes flutter closed and her body sways the rest of the way toward me.
When our lips meet, it’s a win. My heart runs victory laps. The moment something in her decides to commit to this is tangible. Whatever held her back before is no longer between us. Her body relaxes toward me. I expect the kiss to deepen. I want it to deepen. I want our mouths to open and our tongues to clash. I want her so fucking bad I’m rock solid from only the graze of her lips.
But her mouth slides off mine and she tucks her head into the crook of my neck. Her arms wrap around me and she squeezes so hard she shakes. I’m shaking too.
I wrap her up in my arms. I’m vibrating with the desire to make sure she never feels scared again. My nose nuzzles into her hair as I murmur sounds of comfort. I don’t even know what I’m fucking saying.
She shudders out a deep breath and I loosen my grip to pull back and look at her. The soft smile she gives me melts my insides. I feel them actually dissolve.
“Okay. Maybe you scared me a little.”
“I’m sorry.” I pull her forehead to mine; my fingers tangle in her hair. She isn’t trying to get away. She’s pulling me closer too. Her fingers grip my shirt like I might drift.
“Forgiven.”
We stay like that for a minute. Maybe ten. I’d stay like that for forever. I’d take whatever she could give me until the end of time.
But my phone’s chime breaks the mood. We release each other but stay close.
“You can get that.”
I shake my head once.
“I promise, I’m okay. Just a weird adrenaline thing.”
My thumb brushes over her lips and she shivers.
“Get it.” Her head nods toward my phone.
I don’t want to but it’s Marty Zebulund. The timing. “Hello?”
