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Her smile disappears. “Of course! It’s probably for the best. I’m sorry I ever did, really, and I hope you don’t feel like I took—”
“No, Sophia… Don’t,” I say with a sigh. “The problem is that I liked it too much. More than I should.”
Her face goes perfectly blank. “Oh.”
I get up from her kitchen table. She’s only a few steps away. But so is her front door. “I don’t mix business with pleasure,” I say.
“Well,” she says softly. “I don’t date Upper East Side men.”
There’s a long, heated silence between us. I’ve got one foot in either direction and she’s there, leaning against her fridge, looking painfully beautiful and present.
“I have leftover tiramisu in the fridge,” she says. “Want to stay for dessert?”
It takes me a moment to nod, just once, and she sighs. Like she’s relieved. The sound travels through my body and when she turns around, when she takes out the box from the fridge and sets it down on the counter, I cross the distance between us.
It’s impossible not to.
I look over her shoulder, down at the dessert in a takeout container, and feel the softness of her ponytail brush against my neck. Her hands fall flat on the counter. “Oh,” she says again. And just as slowly as I’d come up behind her, she leans back against me.
“I liked kissing you too,” she murmurs. “More than I should’ve.”
The long line of her neck is right in front of me, bared by her ponytail. I lean down and touch my lips to the skin. Once, twice, following the column up toward her jaw.
“I’m sweaty,” she murmurs.
I smile against her skin. And I’m not? The idea of breaking this magic spell because of something so mundane feels like heresy.
“So am I,” I say against her skin. She exhales shakily, her head dropping back to rest against my shoulder.
“Wow,” she breathes.
My hands wrap around the curve of her waist, my fingers stretching to find the press of her hipbones through the tennis skirt.Just this,I think.Just let me have this moment with her.
Sophia lets me explore her neck, lets me listen to her breathing becoming rougher. And I’m fine to do just that, to stay like this, but she has never been anything but an equal partner in the games we’ve played.
She turns in my arms. “Hi,” she whispers. Her lips are only inches from mine, and all the reasons why I shouldn’t do this feel like driftwood against her current.
“I can only do things a hundred and ten percent,” I say. Maybe it’s a warning. Maybe it’s a question. My hands tighten on the smooth skin of her thighs.
Her lips lift in a smile. “I remember.”
I kiss her.
Surrendering to the moment feels like the easiest thing I’ve done all week. Sinking into Sophia is effortless.
She kisses me back, lips soft and open, and achingly smooth. Her hands find my shoulders and then my hair, and her tugging sends a ripple of sensation through my body. I kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since the beginning. The way kissing her should be, done in private, and thoroughly, not like our kisses in front of others. Those had been brief and performative.
This? It’s just for us.
I lift my head. “I’m not a math teacher,” I say. “Don’t think I ever will be.”
“Good thing I’m not ready to date again, anyway.”
“Mmm, yes. There are so many reasons why we’d never work.” I look down at her legs, splayed on either side of me. The short tennis skirt has risen up along her tan thighs. My hands grip them of their own accord and I lift her up, setting her on the counter.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun together.”
Have fun together.My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her thighs, and I look down, focusing on the skin rather than the soft mouth in front of me. “I should at least buy you dinner first.”
