Page 96 of The Story Between Us

He’d meant it as a hug of gratitude. A thank-you. Something simple and friendly and safe.

But the moment her body pressed against his, nothing about it was simple.

She was soft and warm, and she fit against him in a way that felt intentional, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Her hair smelled like something floral—the scent of summer, sunshine, things that were growing. Her hands came up to rest on his back, tentative at first, then certain, and he could feel the heat of her palms through his flannel shirt.

He wanted to kiss her.

The wanting hit him like a wave—sudden, undeniable, consuming. He wanted to tilt her face up and find her mouth and taste her. He wanted to pull her closer, closer, until there was no space left between them. He wanted⁠—

Then she looked at him. Her eyes were bright, searching his. Her lips parted—whether to speak or to breathe, he didn’t know—and that was it. The last thread of his self-control snapped.

He shouldn’t…

She was here for work. She was leaving.

He kissed her anyway.

The moment his mouth found hers, the world narrowed to a single point of perfect clarity. Her lips were soft and warm, and she made this small sound—surprise, or relief, or something he didn’t have words for—and then she was kissing him back.

Her hands slid up his back to his shoulders, pulling him closer. His fingers tangled in her hair—silk and warmth and the faint scent of whatever shampoo she used—and he angled his head to deepen the kiss, tasting her, learning her. She opened to him, and he felt it everywhere, this impossible brightness spreading through his chest like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

He’d wondered for years what it would feel like to kiss her—and now it washed over him all at once. The heat that filled his body, the way kissing her felt like coming home and falling off a cliff at the same time.

Oh, he’d missed her, and that thought simply pulled him under. That and the way she sighed against his mouth. He pulled her impossibly closer, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other splayed against the small of her back. She fit against him like she’d been made for him, and some distant part of his brain registered that this was dangerous, that he was in trouble, that he couldn’t afford to want something this much⁠—

She pulled back.

Not violently. Not a rejection. Just a small space of air between them, enough to breathe.

“Nate—”

Her eyes were wide. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were red from his kiss and he wanted nothing more than to close that space again, to pull her back in and never let go.

But she put her hands on his chest, and probably felt the way his heart was trying to leave his chest. “You need to get to work.” Her voice emerged breathless, unsteady.

Right. Yes. But no.

His heart still pounded, his hands still resting on her waist like he’d forgotten how to let go.

“I’ll make coffee,” she added. Then she gave a little push and took a step back. Somehow, his hands fell away. “You should…the outline is done. You need to write.”

He nodded. Maybe.

She smiled, then turned fast and nearly fled to the kitchen before he could find his voice. Before he could say any of the thousand things crowding his throat—don’t go, stay here, I’m sorry, I’m not sorry, please don’t regret this⁠—

He stood there for a long moment, alone in his office, his pulse still thundering in his ears.

“I’m making coffee!” she said from the kitchen.

So, she wasn’t running. And that meant maybe she was staying.

He sat down. Opened the document on his laptop. Put his fingers on the keys.

The wall of Post-its glowed yellow in the early-morning light. The path was clear. He knew what needed to happen. Ten chapters. Fifty thousand words. Five days.

Impossible. But he’d try.

Aldric stood at the edge of the forest, his mentor’s key in his hand⁠—