Page 98 of The Route to You

“I know,” she said, but her voice came out thin. “I just . . . don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Scare you?”

“Pretend you’re made of steel.” Her hands curled into the front of his shirt, more for balance than intention. Or maybe that was a lie she told herself because it felt safer. “You’re not.”

His mouth tipped into a small, crooked smile. “Neither are you.”

That did something to her. Something warm and entirely inconvenient as her body became more aware of the solid heat of him under her hands. Of how easy it would be to lean in just an inch and find out if his mouth still felt the way she remembered—or maybe the way she’d been pretending she didn’t remember at all.

Her pulse was loud in her ears.

Kyle’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

Oh.

Don’t do it, Sloan. Don’t lean forward. Don’t make this roommate situation awkward the very first day.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she said, trying for light, missing by a mile.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re . . . thinking things.”

His brows lifted, the corners of his sensual mouth curving up in a way that wasn’t innocent at all. “I am thinking things.”

Her stomach flipped. “That’s not helping your case.”

He chuckled, but it was low and softer than his usual laugh, like he didn’t care about denying the energy humming between them. His hand slid from her cheek, but only to her jaw, his thumb resting there, like he’d forgotten how to let go.

“Sloan,” he said, and her name in his voice did unfair things to her spine, “I’m trying very hard to be good right now.”

That sent a spark straight through her.

“Good at what?” she asked, even though she had a very vivid, very traitorous guess based on very real memories that were currently fighting for airtime in her mind.

Nope. Don’t think about that.

“At not doing something stupid with my shoulder,” he said dryly. Then his eyes darkened a shade. The air between them felt charged, like a storm building just under the skin.

Her breath caught. “Well, good. It’s probably not worth it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He stared at her like he was weighing risk versus reward.

Her skin burned with heat.

This. Is. Torture.

She’d almost made up her mind to kiss him, just to break the current of sexual tension—or maybe to move it forward—when Charlie hopped up onto the couch, circling the cushion and dropping down beside them with a whine.

And that’ll do it.

Sloan pulled away from Kyle, her heart still racing, her skin still humming. “Charlie! Off! You can’t be on Kyle’s nice couch.”

She tugged Charlie’s collar, dragging her down. She needed to put some space between herself and Kyle before she did something stupid. Something that might ruin everything between them. “Oh, guess what? I got a lead on a possible job,” she said, way too brightly.

“Wow, already? That’s impressive.” His voice had already returned to casual, as though nothing at all had happened.

Space, Sloan. Less proximity.