“But still.” I turn to face her, hooking a finger into her jeans and tugging her close.
She looks up at me, skeptical, her steely eyes wary.
I don’t understand the look. I lean in closer. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s done anything thoughtful for me. Thank you.”
Her gaze darts away. “You’re welcome. It was nothing. I just grabbed a bunch of stuff. It’s not a big deal. Jackson did the hard part.”
I grip her chin and lift, forcing her to look at me. “Why do you do that?”
Her fingers wrap around my wrist, as though she wants to push me away. “Do what?”
I’m not quite sure yet. There’s just the thread of an idea, but not fully formed. I don’t know her well enough to understand what she’s hiding. I’m only certain of the notion that she is hiding something.
And aren’t we all?
I tighten my hold on her, peering down, attempting to glean the truth that lurks somewhere inside her.
I shake my head. “I don’t know exactly. Minimize.”
“I merely assembled what was already in front of me. I thought we’d be hungry, and Jackson made bread, which he’s awesome at, so I pulled it together. It’s not a big deal.”
There’s something there, right in front of me, but I can’t put my finger on it. So instead, I lean down and brush my mouth over hers. “It’s a big deal to me.”
I feel her swallow under my hands. “I didn’t want you to face something hard on an empty stomach.”
I want to taste her lips again, just for a second, just to feel her under me—to prove to myself she’s real. A quick taste to remember. I step closer, slide my hand around her neck, lean down, and brush over her lips again.
Her hand comes to rest on my biceps.
On my next pass, her lips part, and she rises to her tiptoes.
I capture her mouth, sinking into her.
She presses flush against me, my tongue tangling with hers.
Her fingers clutch the fabric of my T-shirt.
I wrap my arms around her.
And then I get lost.
In the feel of her softness against my hard muscles.
In her clean scent.
The way her mouth fuses to mine.
She lets out a small moan.
In all my interactions with her, I’ve held myself in check, not trusting myself. But that moan is almost my undoing.
It puts me so close, so on edge, it forces sanity to snap into focus, and I pull away.
She chases my mouth, but I grip her hair, holding her back.
I shake my head. “Now’s not a good time.”
As soon as she stiffens, I know that wasn’t the right thing to say, but I can’t take it back. It’s out there, and the only thing I can do is recover the best I can.