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“My family made fun of me for getting gussied up. So, yes on the top?”
“Yes. Yes on the top, and your hair, and everything. But I think you look great all the time. T-shirts. Updo. Headband. Faded jeans. Dog-training scowl.”
“I scowl?”
“You know you do.”
“So do you, when you talk about work sometimes. I’ve started to think of it as your Merriweather Frown.” She reaches up,draws a faint line down my chin. “You get little lines here and here.”
“He’s a tough guy to work with.”
“He should retire.” Her fingertip whispers down my arm. “Nick?” She wraps her hand around my back. “You’re still holding me.”
“I am.”
“I think I razzle-dazzled you too much.”
With her this close, I can’t think.
I can’t form even one word.
I pull her closer.
Then I bend down, toward her. She closes her eyes. I sink my lips onto hers and kiss her like Ishouldhave, back in college. With real passion. Real heat.
Back then, I was too scared.
Tonight, all I feel is desire.
I drink her in, breathe her in, make sure she feels how much I need her. I cup her face with my hands, enjoy the soft curve of her jawline, then let my hand drift to the back of her neck.
Her hair’s soft, where it’s swept up into her ponytail. Her neck is slender, silky smooth skin. Her lips move against mine and when I pull her in more, I feel every inch of our bodies glue together.
It feels like I’m taking a big breath of fresh air, after a long time underwater. Like this is actual life-sustaining oxygen, this kiss.
Like I wouldn’t have survived another second without it.
She makes a squeaking sound into my mouth, then pulls back.
Her hands go up, covering her lips. Her eyes open up, wide. “I wasn’t supposed to do that.”
My breath is coming out ragged.
I can’t form a rational thought.
My lips are wet, my body is full of yearning.
“Maddie…” I want her back in my arms. I want her lips on mine again.
“No… no,” she says, backing up. “Nope. That shouldnothave happened. I made a promise.” Her hand moves to her forehead, and she pushes her long bangs up and back along the top of her head. “Nick, I made an actual promise to myself?—”
“It’s okay,” I tell her.
Because I’m still not thinking straight.
Then, little doubts wriggle in.
Her life in LA.
