Richard grimaced, knowing from Josh’s lack of candor, it had to be the latter.
Hanna turned to look Richard straight in the eye. Her face was only a few inches from his, and he could see the intensity of her emotions swirling beneath the chocolate brown of her eyes. Opening his mouth to reply, he found himself struck dumb by the intimacy developing between them. His expression softened as he gazed back at her, watching her skin react to their closeness, a flush staining the apples of her cheeks.
Some moments passed as they stared, and he could feel the familiar yearning start to tug at his stomach. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out a hand, and lightly brushed his fingertips across her cheek. She continued to look straight at him, her eyes unblinking.
“I think we need to leave.” Her voice was choked. Her neck bobbed visibly as she tried to swallow.
His heart dropped. “I’ll take you home,”
“I want to go home with you.” She looked surprised at her own words, her eyebrows rising up, and the flush in her cheeks deepening.
“Hanna…” He wanted to kick himself for hesitating, but he refused to be anybody’s rebound. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Richard, this is a fabulous idea.” She cupped her hand around the back of his head, pulling his face toward hers. She hesitated when her lips were millimeters away from his. He could feel his breath hitch at her close proximity, the familiar tightness starting to stir.
The warmth of her breath bathed his skin, and he closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time his body felt alive as it did right now. Her fingers continued to play with the hair at the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine and making resistance almost impossible.
“Let’s go.”
THEY WALKED INTO his apartment, and Richard threw his coat over a chair in the hallway, reaching out to take Hanna’s from her shoulders. “Can I get you a drink?”
“A glass of water would be nice.”
He didn’t move, just stood a couple of feet away from her, half smiling, as his soft green eyes stared right into her own.
“You really want some water?”
“I would really like a glass of water, Richard. In fact, I’ve been looking forward to a nice drink of H2O all day.”
“Not wine, not beer, not a cocktail. You want water.” His voice was deadpan, although the crinkling of the corner of his eyes gave his amusement away.
“If you’re going to be an asshole about it, what I really want is a cup of tea. But you’re American, so I decided to go easy on you.”
“I have tea.”
“I don’t believe you.” She placed her hands on her hips, a small smile flashing across her face as his eyebrows raised. Her expression screamed “bring it on.”
“I have teabags, I have milk, and I even have a teapot somewhere. My stepmother is an anglophile, Hanna. So, would you like a cup of tea?”
Instead of moving toward the kitchen, he took a step forward, that crooked half-grin still plastered across his face. He reached out to touch her on her upper arm. His finger traced a line of fire from her shoulder to her elbow, the softness of his touch sending a shiver all the way down to the base of her spine.
“I think I’ll have a cup of tea later.”
“Really?” He closed the gap between them, his body just inches from hers. His hand moved around to the small of her back, and he placed it flat against her, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin material of her dress. For a moment they both stood there, unmoving, and Hanna could feel her body start to hum in reaction to his proximity. Lifting her head up, she looked straight into his eyes, unsure whether she was challenging him or begging him.
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure whether she was replying to his question, or just urging him on.
Everything felt different, and everything felt the same. He was her old friend; someone she had laughed with, and played with. But the Richard standing in front of her was all man. And that suit, oh God that suit; when she first set eyes on him as he walked into the restaurant earlier that day, it was like her whole body had been lit on fire. She was stuck somewhere between familiarity and discomposure, feeling strangely anxious and yet knowing that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t regret this.
“Are you sure?” His hand pulled her toward him, closing the gap, until her chest was just touching his abdomen, the rest of her body barely skimming his. She couldn’t see his face, her eyes reaching only up to the dip in the base of his neck, slightly exposed by the unbuttoned crisp collar of his white shirt.
“Absolutely.”
She wanted to bury herself in his skin, inhale his scent. She softly pressed her lips to the exposed part of his chest. She kissed him harder, sucking gently at his skin, letting her tongue drag its way along the soft dip under his collar.
“Hanna.” His voice cracked, and he placed his thumb under her chin, pulling her face up as he bent down, until they met in the middle. She placed her hands on his shoulders, her fingers splaying across the white of his shirt, using him as leverage to bridge the final gap between his lips and hers.
When there was only a millimeter between them, she felt him sigh against her. He crushed his mouth to hers, any gentleness forgotten in the need to touch, to taste, to consume. His hand pressed hard against the back of her head, pulling her closer until their teeth were almost scraping together, her mouth opening as soon as she felt the tip of his tongue running along her lip.