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I nod. “I could.”
“You'd probably win some sort of award if some of these fell in the right hands.”
I nod. “Yup.”
He pauses, drawing in a deep breath. “Please don't put them out there.”
“What are you so scared about, Drew?”
He studies the pictures again, shaking his head. “Normally I wouldn't care. I mean, versions of these are already out there, but nothing this good. Still...”
“What? What is it?” I try to hide my confusion.
He drops the images, closes his eyes and runs a hand through his dark hair as he sighs. I'm sure he'd be pacing the room right now if he could get up.
“It's not what. It's who. And it's complicated.”
“You can tell me. I'm a good listener.”
Drew tips his head back and stares at the ceiling for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut again and taking a deep, cleansing breath.
“I... I grew up without a father. And when I finally got to meet him, it wasn't how I'd imagined it would be. I guess it made me realize that sometimes, no matter how much we try to make things work, they simply don't. No matter how much we want things to be a certain way, somebody has other plans.”
I can't help but feel a surge of empathy for him. His words resonate with me. My dad was there, but rarely enough. And then he was gone.
I get up and walk over to him, perching on the edge of the cushion next to his hip.
“I'm not a reporter, Drew. I won't share your story. You can tell me—if you want.”
Before anything else, he leans forward, slips one hand around my neck, and draws me close. He's watching me closely, waiting for a signal, any signal. When he gets none, he closes the distance and presses his lips against mine. His mouth is soft and tender, giving me plenty of time to accept or push him away.
I kiss him back.
With a groan, he slips his tongue between my lips and kisses me passionately.
I am taken aback but instantly melt into his embrace as the connection becomes more urgent, more desperate. His other hand roams over my back, down my side, and arm as he deepens the kiss.
I've never been this attracted to a man. Usually, it takes a few dinners and some smooth talking. But with Drew, I'm ready to skip all of that.
Forget the appetizer. I'm ready for the main course.
God, I want him to touch me everywhere.
He slows down and brings his hands up to cup my cheeks while he softly caresses my jawline with the pads of his thumbs as we continue to kiss, our tongues exploring each other. When he drops one hand and slides it up my back to wrap around my waist, my body ignites with desire.
My heart races, and my pulse quickens. I slip my hands under his hoodie and smooth my palms up his chest, touching every solid muscle under his shirt.
My breathing is ragged.
He groans into my mouth.
His touches grow bolder, more insistent, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Then he's cupping my ass through the fabric of my jeans.
A few minutes later, the kiss is broken, and we pull away, panting heavily. This time, it's his turn to look surprised, and he seems almost stunned by what happened.
I blink rapidly, trying to break away from his gaze. Although my pulse is still pounded, I smile, attempting to make the awkwardness less noticeable.
“I should probably apologize for that,” he whispers.
