“Why?”
“It never felt right before.”
She tries to smile, but her lips won’t quite cooperate. “Maybe with the right person.”
I hold my hand out toward her, inviting her to join me here in the center. “The view is best right here. It’s perfectly symmetrical.” I have a feeling she loves symmetry like cats love catnip.
She takes a few steps toward me but stops out of my reach. Looking up at the ceiling, she smiles and says, “You’re right. The view is better here. I love this.”
“You’re not in the middle, Anna.”
She bites her lip and takes one more step toward me.
I capture one of her hands and gently pull her to the middle with me. “You don’t want to stand next to me?”
She meets my eyes for the barest fraction of a second before glancing away. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to . . . do things with me.”
“I don’t.”
A smile flashes on her mouth as she nods. “Okay, good.”
Courage, I tell myself. She sent me a heart emoji. I can do this. Steeling myself, I tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear. When her cheek twitches, I ask, “Do you mind when I do that?”
She starts to shake her head, but stops. “I like the sentiment.”
“But?” I ask.
With her gaze trained up at the ceiling, she adds, “But . . . it bothers me when people touch my hair.”
I store that information away and run the backs of my fingers along her cheek and cup her jaw in my hand, bringing her attention back to me. “What about when I touch you like this?”
She takes a shaky breath and exhales. “It’s okay.”
“Okay good, or okay bad?”
Her lips curve. “Okay good.”
“Good to know.” I lean down, aching to press my mouth to hers, but I only allow my nose to graze against the bridge of hers, a caress that makes her eyes drift shut.
I brush my lips over hers, and when she moves as if to prolong contact, my control snaps and I take her mouth the way I’ve been craving to. She makes a tiny sound in her throat, and I’m lost. I kiss her like I’m drowning.
I wanted to memorize everything about this moment, kissing her in this place, but her mouth is all I can think about. Her intoxicating softness, her taste, the way she seems to draw me deeper. I can’t get enough. I can’t stop.
She’s the one who pulls away, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly. “Can we get arrested for lewd kissing in public?”
A gruff laugh comes out of me. “I don’t think so? And you think this is lewd? You haven’t seen anything yet.” I slide my palms down her back, grip her hips, and arch against her, so she can feel what she does to me.
She gasps and hides her face against my neck, saying my name like it’s a protest, and I chuckle.
This is the right time, so I say it.
“I really like you, Anna.”
“I like you, too,” she says, and there’s a weight to her words that tells me she means it.
“I don’t want this to be our last night together,” I confess. “I want to keep seeing you after this. Instead of trying to have a one-night stand . . . why don’t we just date and see where things go?” I ask, having difficulty hearing my voice over the loud crashing of my heart.
She draws in a sharp breath and steps away from me. “Does that mean you want to be my boyfriend?”