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Nolan tugs on my waist, bringing us even closer. Our faces are only inches apart, and suddenly all the teasing becomes harder to keep up with. It feels like livewires are sparking through every nerve ending and short-circuiting my brain.

“You don’t need to worry about that douche canoe anymore, Daisy,” he says, his voice softer. “Your son now has a hot, responsible uncle to guide him in the right direction.”

“I’m an only child,” I deadpan.

“I was referring to me,” he protests.

I press my lips together to hide my grin. I knew exactly who he was talking about. “Oh,” I reply, playing dumb. “You were?”

Nolan’s eyes narrow, but the smile tugging at his mouth gives him away. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

The word barely leaves my lips before his expression changes. The teasing fades, replaced by something softer. His free hand lifts, and his thumb gently skates across my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine. “I want to kiss you.”

My breath catches. “You do?”

“Yeah.” His hypnotic gaze drops briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. “But I don’t want to steal one this time. I need your permission.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my heart stumble. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath skating across my skin. Close enough that my entire body is hyper aware. His warm hand resting on my waist, my front is pressed to his, and the way his thumb still lingers on my face, resting softly against my jawline.

“I think you already know the answer,” I whisper.

“I need your words, darlin’.”

“Kiss me, Nolan.”

The moment his lips touch mine, the world around me ceases to exist. His kiss is slow, unhurried, and deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second.

It’s nothing like the first time. That one happened so fast I barely had a chance to process it before it was over. This kiss is gentle, and I melt into him before I even realise I’m doing it.

One of my hands fists the front of his shirt while the other settles against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm. His lips are impossibly soft, and his mouth on mine sends a rush of heat spiralling through me so intense it curls my toes inside my shoes.

I’ve been kissed before, but never like this.

I rise onto the balls of my feet, silently asking for more. A groan rumbles low in his throat when he deepens the kiss, and my heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of my chest.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough for our foreheads to rest together. I’m breathless, dazed, smiling like an idiot, and dare I say … completely undone.

The drive to Nolan’s parents’ house is quiet. I don’t know about him, but I’m lost in my own head. Still unable to silence the storm raging inside me. I’ve been kissed before, many times, but none of them ever made me question everything I thought I knew.

I still remember the first time Jason kissed me, and in comparison, it was completely underwhelming. I’d been working for him for about six months when it happened.

His failing restaurant was beginning to take off, thanks to all the effort I’d put into social media and getting his name out there.

A week prior, I’d invited top food critics and bloggers to dine with us. Jason’s cooking ability to pair ingredients in ways no one else would think of had them hanging on every bite, chasing the next surprise before they’d even finished the last.

In the following days, there was a line snaking down the street of people who wanted to try his food.

I was in the kitchen helping one of the chefs prep for the night service when Jason arrived. “Did you see that line out there?” was the first thing he asked. I remember smiling so wide because his joy was infectious. “I finally did it, Daisy,” he had said when he scooped me into his arms and swung me around.

I was happy for him; I was, but I couldn’t stop fixating on one word. I. It made me feel invisible. As though none of the long, relentless hours or sleepless nights I’d poured into his restaurant had mattered.

I’d kept that place afloat when the bills were piling up, and the tables sat empty. I created his now huge online presence from nothing, because I believed in his dream when no one else did. Without everything I’d done behind the scenes, there wouldn’t have been a restaurant left to save.

When I first started working there and things began to turn around, I felt like I was making a difference. I felt like I belonged. It was something I’d spent my entire life chasing because my parents had never made me feel worthy. But one tiny word was all it took to put me in my place and remind me where I stood in the equation.

“I guess my job here is done,” I replied after he set me back on my feet.