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“Why are your cheeks red?”
My breath catches in my throat. “It's hot in here.”
“Isn't it?” He leans in close, and I can feel his breath against my cheek, but he doesn't say anything. My stomach drops as his lips brush over the corner of my mouth, then he pulls away and sits back in his seat.
He's waiting for me.
I close my eyes, wondering if I have the willpower to say no, remembering how safe I'd felt in his arms. How patient and caring he's been no matter how many times I snap at him.
I let out a breath, then spin in my seat, leaning my elbows against the console and staring into his face. “You don't play fair.”
He brushes his fingers along my cheek, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my lips. “Want me to stop?” I shake my head and reach for him.
His lips are warm against mine, and he makes a small noise in his throat before pulling me closer.
His hand rests on my back, and he flicks his tongue lightly over my lips, then he eases the kiss deeper. I press my palm to his cheek, exploring the course hair of his beard, and let out a soft moan. This feels perfect and terrifying all in the same beat.
I pull away, opening my eyes to see him smiling. “What?”
“You taste a little like chocolate.”
A deep shudder runs through me, and I want nothing more than to climb over the console and kiss him again. But I press my hand to the center of his chest and move away. “Good thing for my sanity you don't like sweets, then.”
He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You are definitely the exception.”
I close my eyes, trying to ignore the warm flush that rises over my body. “You're terrible.”
