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Not in her bubble.
“I told you, baby,” he said softly, stepping back and going on with the next pot. “What you said was a good thing. It made me think.”
“I’m sorry.”
His head came up from studying the pot, mouth tipping up. “For making me think?”
She laughed. “For what I said. I—” A shake of her head. “I was feeling vulnerable and upset, and what I said was more about me than you. Not,” she added, “not that I can stand the whole alpha-hole bullshit. It’s just—”
He waited, scrubbing the pot.
“It’s just that I’m not usually such a bitch.”
“You were hurt, and I pushed at the wrong time.” He set the pot on the counter, and Teresa started drying it.
“No. Okay, yes, I was hurt,” she added when he glanced at her in confusion. “And yes, you pushed, and it was the wrong time, especially when I asked you to back off.”
Guilt in his eyes.
“But—”
He froze.
She stepped closer, shoved herself between his body and the sink, felt the cool porcelain of the basin on her back, the hot press of him on her front.
But his face.
God,the wayhe looked at her…
It felt natural to rest her hands on his chest, to slide them up until she was cupping both of his cheeks.
“But you’re a good man,” she whispered. “You’re a good man, andanyonewould be lucky to have you in their life.”
He inhaled, but the exhale didn’t come, not when he was so still against her.
“Iwould be lucky to have you.”
The exhale came then, shuddering out of him, skittering along her lips.
And…she had to capture it.
Capture that breath in her own mouth, feel his lips against hers, his tongue—
“Teresa,” he whispered.
“Kiss me,” she whispered back.
But she didn’t wait for him to reply, for him to move toward her.
She rose on tiptoe, used her hands to drag his head down to hers, and…she kissed him.
No hesitation. No delay.
No awkwardness.
Just her and him and the kiss.
Just her and him and all the things he made her feel.
