I laugh despite myself.
“You are impossible.”
“Probably.”
His gaze softens.
“But you deserve somebody making an effort.”
My breath catches.
“Kai—”
“And I don't say things I don't mean.”
The room seems to hold its breath.
His eyes never leave mine.
And standing there in my little basement apartment, I realize something terrifying.
The scary part isn't how much I want him.
The scary part is how much I trust him.
Because trusting somebody means they can hurt you.
And somehow, despite everything, I don't think he will.
“Now,” he says quietly, squeezing my hand, “tell me what was really going through that pretty head of yours when you invited me inside.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks.
“Kai.”
“Mary.”
He's smiling again.
Not teasing.
Not exactly.
Something warmer.
Something that makes my knees feel unsteady.
He reaches up.
Slowly.
Giving me every chance in the world to pull away.
I don't.
His hand settles against my cheek.
Gentle.