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“Thanks for coming by,” she says. “I feel better about things now that we’ve had a chance to plan.”
“Me, too.” Without thinking, I wrap an arm around her waist, stepping closer to her. Her bottom lip drops open in surprise and then she smiles just enough to give me permission.
I close my mouth against hers. I’m cautious and taking it a lot slower than my instinct.
This is Aria. It’s important to get this right.
I cradle her head as she returns the kiss, and now we’re really kissing, her hands going from my chest around to my back so she can press me closer. I widen my stance so I don’t stumble. The way she’s teasing my mouth with hers brings a mystical air, where the only sound I hear is the beating of her heart, the pulse in her neck against my wrists. And when she sighs and parts her lips, I have to force myself to step back.
We say nothing. But I feel the beginnings of a smile dance along my lips when I see the same on hers.
I’ve thought of this moment, of kissing Aria for real, for two years.
Chapter 23
Aria
Theo’s mouth on me last night? Fodder for every single thought I’ve had ever since.
I fell asleep thinking of how it felt, how sliding my palms along his strong, lithe shoulders and around to the back of his neck sent cascades of goosebumps throughout my arms and legs. I woke up thinking of the soft pressure of his lips on mine, how blissfully breathless he made me.
I thought our first kiss was good—too good—and the forbidden nature of it made it even more thrilling.
Now? Nothing could have prepared me for how his kisses make me feel.
Our second kiss sent the first one to a vague sense of fluffy giddiness in my mind. I’m undone by last night, enthralled by the knowledge that all my time with Rob was like wandering in a desert, a very stale desert.
Theo is my manna, and now that I know what it’s like to kiss him, I can’t go back to the manna-free life, back to a hunger I didn’t even understand that I had.
I’m blaming this state of mind for the way I whimsically—irresponsibly?—
pressed that “apply now” button a few times this morning, filling things out and attaching my resume and portfolio with the kind of reckless abandon that can only be attributed to the post-kiss hangover.
It’s fine. I probably won’t even get an interview.
Camilla is frustratingly perfect at reading my aura or mood or whatever, so of course, she knows right when she sees me what has happened.
“I’m happy for you,” she says, with actual tears pooling in her eyes. “You two could get married on my anniversary! That would make it so special.” Her words tumble out of her, so rapid I can’t get a word in edgewise. “And we could plan to get pregnant at the same time, and then I’ll have a boy and you’ll have a girl and they’ll be best buddy cousins and—”
“Camilla!” My growl is sharp. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Jump to the most impossible conclusions. Besides. We kissed before, remember? It’s not a big deal.”
Lies.
It’s a very big deal.
“I know. But that was a rebound, crazy psycho kiss.” She flings her arms around. She’s the most dramatic of all hand talkers. “Now, your nervous system has calmed down, everything’s good. You’re both clear-minded.” She claps her hands. “Which makes me so happy.”
Before she can start crying again, I tighten my apron with a forceful yank.
“Look, it’s all very new.” I’m whispering, but I step towards her, milking my height to intimidate her. And I don’t feel the least bit sorry about it. “I need you to not say anything to anyone. Especially your husband.”
She puffs out a breath. “I—” She clamps her mouth shut and breathes heavily out of her nose. “Okay. I can respect that. But you don’t understand how hard this is for me. And Jesse wouldn’t say anything to Theo.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah right. He might not mean to, but he will. Or Theo will sense he knows or—”
