Page 45 of The Golden Scoop

Something clicks for him because when he turns again, he gives me a slow once-over. I should tell him off, feel embarrassed. I don’t. It only encourages me further. A lapse in judgment I’m choosing to ignore.

Matt takes a step closer when he’s done, my chest almost brushing his.

“Yes, I have,” he whispers, towering over me. “But they’re not you.”

I forget, briefly, that this isn’t a real date.

Winches. That’s what the things that hold the lines are called. At least that’s what Matt said. And we are not getting along.

“This thing hates me,” I grumble, trying to tighten it.

When I offered to help, I didn’t think it was going to be this frustrating, or this humiliating.

“You’re pulling against the wind. It’s not personal.”

“It feels personal.”

I tug again, this time harder, and the line tugs back, pulling me with it.

Once again, my Prince Charming moves fast, his hands curling around my bare waist. My entire body goes still, heat flares under his touch, sharp and immediate.

“Easy,” he says, voice deeper than it’s been all day.

“Are you going to stay there, stuck to me, or actually help?” I bite, annoyed I can’t seem to control how much I’m reacting to him, or how much my body seems to want it.

“Both.”

He guides my hands but doesn’t take over completely. I don’t like people doing things for me, I enjoy learning. And somehow, he knows this. A little too perceptive for casual.

“Now pull,” he murmurs.

The sail tightens but he doesn’t step away. I turn in his arms, ready for him to make some funny comment about my lack of strength, but the look on his eyes renders me speechless.

They’re darker. Heated. Focused, like I’ve seen him before when he’s intent on nailing something on the first try.

I don’t realize I’m biting my lip until one of his hands comes up to my chin, pulling down gently to free it. His touch sends a shock straight down my spine, and my heart does a full somersault.

“Emma,” he says, almost as a warning of what we both know is changing between us.

We inch closer in unison. Not by accident, and definitely not by mistake.

I shouldn’t give in, but that makes me want it more. A terrible character flaw. Because this Matt, the one who’s not scared to open up, is undeniably tempting and hard to resist.

His lips look so soft, welcoming.

There are probably a million reasons why we shouldn’t kiss. And yet the words float around in my head without sorting themselves out into actual thoughts. Just noise, none of it helpful.

I shouldn’t.

But I’m drawn to him like a magnet in a storm I need to stay away from.

Before I can decide, my phone starts blaring at us from inside my purse, slicing the tension in half. I bolt back like the energy between us has shocked me into reality where making out with my subject is completely prohibited.

“I have to get that. It’s probably work…” I excuse myself.

“Right,” he answers, stepping away. “Don’t want to interfere more than I already have.”

I crave his touch as soon as it’s gone. It was easier to quit smoking after my senior year than leaving this man behind. And that was brutal.