His breathing catches.
“Of course, the eyes win,” I murmur.
All our light teasing is gone now, replaced with something deeper, something hungrier.
“Honey,” he growls deep and low.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
Then he leans in and we’re kissing again—only this feels different.
It feels…perfect.
We kiss for a long time—and it’s not rushed or frantic.
It’s slow, careful.
Like he’s kissing me with a purpose.
The waves roll in.
The boardwalk lights slowly begin to dim.
Somewhere down the beach, gulls announce the coming morning.
When I finally open my eyes, I glance toward the horizon.
“Is that...”
“Dawn.”
I sigh dramatically.
“We’ve been here all night.”
“We have.”
“I should probably go home.”
“I know.”
Neither of us moves.
Finally, Rand stands and offers me his hand.
Again.
He’s done this every single time.
Like he’s making sure it’s my choice to go with him, to pick him.
And I do.
I take it.
Again.
We clean up, walk back to his motorcycle.And he helps me with the helmet.
