“Callout thoughts?”
“No.”
Her breath shifts, and I lift my hand, brushing my thumb lightly along her jaw.
“You,” I say quietly, eyes locked on hers. “Moaning-in-my-ear thoughts.”
She bites her lip, and as my hand coasts around to cup the back of her neck, her eyes flutter closed.
“I meant what I said,” I murmur, leaning in. “I don’t blur lines for the hell of it.”
“I know.” She nods, leaning into my palm. “And I told you, I’m not gonna run. I’m just… I want you to be sure.”
“You think I’m not sure?”
Her breath shifts. “I think you don’t like losing control.”
I hum. “That so?”
She nods once, and I let my thumb drag down the side of her throat, feeling the way she swallows beneath it. Her palms land on my chest, lightly trailing up the front of my T-shirt without thinking, and I lean in, just enough for my lips to brush the spot under her ear.
“I’m sure,” I murmur against her skin.
She exhales softly, breath tickling the side of my cheek. “Evan…”
Her hands tighten against my shirt, and her hips shift forward a fraction, before she can stop herself. I let my lips brush the lobe of her ear, and when I pull back, her eyes are blown wide.
“Mhm,” I add. “Veryfucking sure.”
“Penny!” Elle yells from down the hallway, and we both jump. “I only found one hair clip but it’s the wrong sparkly!”
Penny laughs under her breath, forehead dropping briefly to my chest.
“You’re trouble,” she mutters.
“Mm.”
She nudges me with her hip. “Move.”
The corner of my mouth curves as she brushes past me, letting her fingers drag lightly along my stomach as she goes.
Elle calls out again. “Pennyyyyy!”
“Coming!” She glances over her shoulder at me and smirks, but I take a sip of coffee and lean back against the counter instead, not taking the bait.
Elle is still yapping about sandwiches and hair clips down the hallway while Penny laughs and talks brightly, helping her find the right sparkly. Gus whines, circling my legs, hopeful for some crumbs.
And I’m standing in my kitchen, listening to a woman who could complicate my life beyond repair, and make it feel full again.
***
Elle insists on carrying her own backpack and then hands it to me halfway down the driveway.
“It’s heavier today,” I tell her, weighing it in my hand.
“I put three rocks in it,” she replies. “For ’mergencies.”
My brow furrows as I look down at her. “For what emergencies?”
