Page 74 of The Tartan Thesis

Stunner

Translation: Someone who’s really, really hot

Usage: To describe someone who stops you in your tracks

Can’t believe I got up the gumption to kiss him, and I’m even more surprised he kissed me back. And the way he kissed me, with so much hunger and passion… Just thinking about it sends blood rushing between my legs again.

We’re warming up in the car before our drive, neither of us saying much. Every so often one of us glances at the other and quickly looks away again, shooting small, almost timid smiles, and I swear I can still taste him.

I tap the gas, coaxing the engine to warm up, then look at Torin. “Home?”

“Aye,” he says. “Home.”

“Do you want to put on some music?” I ask, handing over my phone before pulling out of the lot.

“Sure.” He pulls up the music app and scrolls. Before long, a soft instrumental holiday melody comes over the speakers, perfect for winding down a cold December night.

He puts my phone in its holder, and my hand shoots out and grabs his before I realize what I’m doing. But he just laces his fingers through mine and pulls my hand into his lap, his thumb brushing over my knuckles this time. I take my eyes from the road for a second and smile over at him, and he smiles back, and it’s a beautiful feeling.

Our hands remain tangled as I drive, his pulse beating faintly where our palms meet. I know he’s as nervous as I am about what’s happening between us. I took a risk, asking if I could kiss him, and now he’s letting me know it was a risk worth taking. The heater is on full blast, but I’m warm in a completely different way.

The road slips quietly beneath the tires while the headlights carve a pale tunnel through the night. Every time I glance over at Torin, he’s already looking at me, the corners of his mouth lifting before he turns away. A few miles later, a gentle weight settles against my shoulder.

When I look over, Torin’s eyes are closed, his breathing slow and easy.

He really can fall asleep anywhere.

When we get back to the farm, I leave the engine idling and sit there in the dim glow of the dashboard light. I study his face, the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheeks, the curve of his mouth that looks a little stubborn, even in sleep. Beautiful. The word slips through my mind again, just as certain as it was earlier.

And the way I want him. God, the way I want him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.

I’ve never been in a long-term relationship with a man, so I don’t know what to do next, but surely he feels this, too, whatever this thing is growing between us. It can’t just be me.

Not wanting to startle him after such a perfect night, I gently shake the arm he’s using as a pillow and whisper his name. No response, just deep, even breaths.

“Torin,” I say again softly, and his eyes flutter open.

Those gorgeous green eyes find mine, and somehow my feelings for him grow even stronger.

“We’re home,” I whisper.

He tilts his head up with a yawn, using one hand to cover his mouth, the other still holding mine.

“Come on, sleepy boy,” I say, kissing him on the forehead. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods and yawns again as I reluctantly extract my hand from his, turn off the ignition, and press the button to release his seat belt. A few seconds later, he’s upright, running a hand through his hair, giving me a soft smile.

“You shower first and let me know when you’re done,” he says once we’re inside.

“Okay,” I say. I grab my toiletry case from my room and head to our shared bathroom. The shower is brief, more a rinse than anything, and I dry myself quickly, texting him that I’m done.

The bathroom door opens just as the thought crosses my mind: I left my pajamas in my room.

Torin stops in the doorway. I’m standing there in nothing but a towel.

His eyes consume every bit of me, and my heart kicks hard against my ribs. He’s never seen me shirtless before, and I think he’s about to tell me he’ll come back when I’m decent, but then he cracks a lopsided grin. “Do you even lift, bro?”

I bark out a laugh. “I’m lifting forks and weights every day, brochacho.”