I feel it everywhere.
My lips are still tingling, my body still on fire, and I swear I can feel his hands on my waist even though he’s not touching me anymore.
And that’s a problem.
Because if I don’t move, I might do it again.
I inhale—big, deep, calming breath.Then exhale.
It doesn’t help.
Because every single nerve in my body is still vibrating, still clinging to the memory of his hands, his mouth—his stupid,stupidwords.
I step back too quickly, too abruptly, like he’s made of lava.My back slams into the gate, causing it to clang far too loudly for my liking.
Joel just watches me, eyes unreadable, chest still rising and falling too fast.
“You okay there, Ace?”
His voice is too soft, too careful.
Like he’s trying not to scare me off.
I scowl.“I—yes.Fine.Totally fine.What?I’m great.Perfect, even.”
He hums, studying me.“Really?”
“Really.”
Joel tilts his head, green eyes searching mine.
And God, why does he always look at me like that?
Like I’m something he wants to figure out, wants to understand—wants to keep.
My stomach flips violently.
“Because you look like you just had a religious experience.”
Oh my God.
“Get over yourself,” I mutter, running a frantic hand through my hair.
Joel doesn’t grin.
Not this time.
His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something else, something important, but I can’t—I don’t want to hear it.
Because what if he says something else I can’t ignore?
What if he’s right?
My lips are still tingling.
My fingers are still curled into fists, like I’m holding on to the last shred of my self-control.
And he sees it.