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“It… wasn’t?”
He moved toward her, not stopping until he was able to breathe in the subtle scent of her soap or lotion and see the tiny flecks of gold in her amazing blue-green eyes.
Unable to help himself, he lifted his hand and brushed a tendril from her cheek. “No. It was that you obviously weren’t ready to settle down, and I knew I had to give you the space and freedom you needed. Even if it killed me to let you go.”
His gaze dropped to the pulse racing in her throat, visible and tantalizing. He took another step and allowed his hand to drift from her cheek to her neck, his thumb brushing over the spot.
His attention shifted when her lips parted to draw in more air, and he focused on the soft pink of them, lowering his head—
“Yo, Oz, you ready to head out?” Michael called from somewhere in the house.
Devon gasped and stumbled back several steps, chest rising and falling, eyes wide at what had almost happened.
“I-I should go.”
“Devon?”
She held up a hand as though that would stop the awareness of what had almost been.
“I’m engaged, Oz.”
A low huff left his chest. “I heard you on the phone, sweetheart. You’re returning the ring. That means you’re not.”
