Page 51 of The Overtime Persuasive

Eva lingers in the doorway, smiling as she looks my way. The humor slips from her expression when our eyes meet. I close the distance between us, settle my hands on her hips, and ease her back until she meets the painted door.

Her fingers catch at my shoulders, but she doesn’t resist. She pulls me closer.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” I whisper into her ear, letting my hand slowly wrap around her waist and holding her tightly. “Tell me to stop.”

Her gaze is steady on mine. “I think I started it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And you’re talking again.” That’s the only warning I get before she grabs the front of my coat and brings my mouth back to hers.

This kiss is different from the first. There’s no surprise in it, and no careful first touch. I caress her jaw, tipping her face toward mine, and kiss her the way I’ve been trying not to imagine since the first day we met.

Her arms slide around my neck as I move closer, the rain drumming against the awning behind me. She tastes faintly of chocolate and wine, and it’s delicious. My hand tightens at her waist, and she arches into me, erasing what little space remains between us.

When I deepen the kiss, her fingers move into my hair. And that move alone nearly takes out my knees.

I drag my mouth from hers, following the soft curve of her cheek to her jaw. Her breath hitches beside my ear.

“Liam.” The way she says my name sends heat straight down my spine. I lift my head, giving her the chance to move away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, Eva looks at me for one long, unguarded second before she pulls me back to her.

No jokes necessary.

CHAPTER 12

EVA

Ipush my satin sleep mask onto my forehead and touch my lips for what has to be the fifteenth time since I woke up, and then I laugh.

This is not a normal laugh either. It’s soft––a breathy little giggle that belongs to someone who sleeps in a tower and has bluebirds circling her head, with mice who help her get dressed in the morning. Pretty sure somewhere a teapot is boiling its own water, while singing woodland creatures are prepping my breakfast.

Mitch lifts his head from the pillow beside mine, kitty cat eyes oozing with feline judgment.

“Don’t judge your mother, she’s allowed happiness.”

He stares at me for another second before lowering his head, clearly unwilling to support me through whatever this is. “Please remember, I rescued you.”

I roll onto my back and press my fingers to my lips again. They don’t feel any different. Of course they don’t. Lips do not retain kisses overnight, that would be biologically ridiculous and probably inconvenient.

Yet, still, I swear I can feel Liam’s mouth on mine. Wow.

The warmth of his hand against my cheek while his other hand gripped my waist had me undone from the get-go. It was when the rain was soaking through my jacket while he backed me into that door and kissed me as if we weren’t standing on a public sidewalk in the middle of a downpour that I think I lost my ever-loving mind.

Another laugh bubbles out of me and Mitch’s head rises once more, green eyes narrow as he shoots me a look of irritation.

“Oh, come on. You lick your own feet.” That stops him. He looks away when I pull the comforter up beneath my chin and close my eyes. I need to assess the situation calmly and rationally.

Last night, I attended a team dinner with Liam. Afterward, we went for a perfectly normal walk to look at Halloween decorations. During that walk, we had a perfectly normal conversation in which Liam told me something personal, accused me of using humor to avoid my feelings, held my hand, and looked at me as if waiting for me to finally see what was right in front of me.

Well, I saw it.

Then I kissed him.

Important distinction: I kissed him first.