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“Madison.”
“I know. Terrible habit.”
He studies my face, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek.
“Headache?”
“Gone.”
“Dizzy?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
I smile.
“Yes, doc.”
“Smartass.”
“Still old.”
He laughs and draws me closer.
I barely have time to smile before his mouth finds mine.
The kiss starts slowly, almost lazily, his lips brushing mine as though we have all the time in the world. I slide my hand to the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm, and he pulls me against his chest.
There's something different about kissing him like this.
No arguing, no pretending I'm not interested, no reason to pull away.
Just the quiet room, his arms around me, and the delicious way my stomach flutters every time his lips meet mine.
When he finally lifts his head, I follow him, stealing one more kiss.
His smile brushes my mouth.
“Greedy little thing.”
“You complaining?”
“Not a fucking chance.”
I laugh softly.
He rests his forehead against mine.
“You don't have to prove anything to me, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
I touch his cheek, feeling the familiar roughness of his stubble.
