Page 48

The soft clackof keys fills the kitchen as I sit at the island, legs curled beneath me, a cooling cup of coffee forgotten beside my laptop. I’ve been working on the donor campaign proposal for Joey, trying to make every word feel personal and right. But my focus keeps drifting—because I know Eddie’s somewhere in the house, and every part of me feels tuned to the sound of his footsteps.

And then, I hear them.

He walks into the room like he always does—casual, unhurried, filling the space without even trying. I glance up just as he catches my eye, and the smile he gives me sends a warm flutter through my chest.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough in a way that feels like a hug I didn’t know I needed.

I can’t help the way my lips curve. “Hi.”

It’s soft. Simple. But there’s something in the way he looks at me—fond, a little amused—that makes heat crawl up my neck. He steps closer and leans a forearm on the counter beside me, close but not crowding me, and my skin tingles just from his presence.

“You’ve got a real pretty smile,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.

I glance down shyly, trying to hide the way my cheeks warm, but his fingers are gentle beneath my chin, lifting my face until I have no choice but to look at him.

“That’s better,” he says with a small, satisfied smile, like seeing me look at him is exactly where he wants me.

My heart stutters. He’s too close. Too handsome. Too him.

“I need a favor,” he says.

“Yes,” I answer automatically.

He chuckles, the sound warm and low, tugging at something deep in my chest. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“I don’t need to. I trust you.”

Something shifts in the space between us. The smile slips from his face, replaced by something quieter, more intense. Like my words reached somewhere tender inside him. His expression softens, but the heat in his eyes lingers.

“Laney,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

My breath catches. “Then do it.”

He doesn’t move right away, and that pause—the weight of it—only intensifies the moment. He leans in slowly, giving me every second to back out, to change my mind. But I’m already falling.

When his lips touch mine, they’re soft. Tentative. Testing.

And then everything inside me catches fire.

I melt into him as his hand slides gently around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the roughness of his palm through the thin fabric of my shirt, the warmth of his body pressing against mine. His other hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with featherlight tenderness.

The kiss deepens, his mouth parting mine, tongue slipping in to tease and explore. I answer him without thinking, leaningin, craving more. It’s not frantic—it’s something better. Slow, hungry, consuming.

He lifts me without effort, my back arching as he sets me gently on the edge of the island. My breath catches as my legs instinctively wrap around his hips, bringing us impossibly closer.

His hands slide to the small of my back, holding me there, while his mouth moves over mine like he’s learning me, memorizing me. I grip the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the soft cotton, needing something to anchor me.

His teeth graze my bottom lip and I gasp, and that little sound drives him deeper. His groan rumbles low in his chest, vibrating against me as he kisses me harder, more desperate like he’s been holding this back and can’t anymore.

Every brush of his tongue, every slow drag of his lips against mine makes my skin feel too tight, my whole body strung high with tension. I lose all sense of time, of anything outside the way he feels.

And then—

His phone rings.

We both freeze, breathless, our mouths still close, my lips tingling. He groans quietly, pressing his forehead to mine.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough and low. “I need to take this.”