Page 49

His lips brush my jaw. "Completely."

I shift slightly under his hands, just enough to glance over my shoulder at him. "You’re really good at this, you know."

He dips his head, lips brushing my ear. "You have no idea what else I’m good at."

My breath hitches. "Is that a challenge?"

"Do you want it to be?"

I turn in the chair, eyes locking with his. "Maybe. Depends what I get if I win."

His mouth curves. "Anything."

My heart skids in my chest. "Bold offer."

He shrugs. "You bring out the risk-taker in me."

"I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one. Stay focused. No distractions."

"Then stop distracting me, Fields."

My lips part, caught between a laugh and something far more dangerous. "I’m not doing anything."

"Exactly. And it’s ruining me."

I turn slightly in the chair, and suddenly we’re face to face. I go still, every nerve suddenly on alert. His eyes drop to my lips.

The air shifts. Again.

I should stand up. I should create space. But instead, I stay perfectly still.

His fingers trail down my face and brush along my jaw.

I’m not breathing.

And then he kisses me.

His mouth takes mine like he owns it, confident, hungry, all heat and pressure. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s a kiss that says he’s done pretending he doesn’t want me, and every inch of me answers back with a yes I’m too breathless to say out loud.

I kiss him back. God help me, I kiss him back.

The chair scrapes as I stand and he pulls me into him. My hands go to his solid, warm chest. His arms wrap around mywaist, strong and sure, drawing me in until there’s nothing between us but heat and want. The kiss deepens as his lips part mine with slow certainty, like he’s learning me, mapping each response.

My fingers slide up to his neck, anchoring there, as if letting go might unravel me completely. He tilts his head slightly, his mouth moving with more skill now…teasing, claiming. It’s not rushed, not desperate, but there’s a hunger beneath it, a quiet ache that says he’s been waiting to touch me like this.

I meet him with the same fire, answering every kiss like it’s the only language I’ve ever known. Time stalls. There’s just the warm press of him against me and the slow burn building between us, like the night itself is holding its breath.

"Damn," he breathes against my mouth. "You kiss like you mean it."

"I do," I murmur. "And you kiss like you’ve been waiting."

He smiles, lips brushing mine again. "I have."

"How long?"

"Since the hallway. That first day you moved in. You were holding a box and looked like you might murder someone with a highlighter. I was gone."

He kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s savoring it. His fingers slip through mine, anchoring me in place while everything else around us drifts out of focus.