Anders runs his tongue over my thumb, shaking his head. “Who are you and what have you done with Omar?”
I open my mouth to answer but am unable to find the words to describe what he’s shifted inside of me.
“This is your fault,” I finally say, brushing my fingers along his cheekbone.
His smile is soft, almost shy. “Yeah?”
I nod, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Yeah.”
That troublemaker smile of his reappears. “I think this is the longest we’ve ever talked without going at each other’s throats.”
“It’s the longest you’ve gone without intentionally pissing me off. Though I’m guessing there’s a glob of toothpaste in the sink.”
“Maybe,” he says, shrugging.
“Do you ever get any of the toothpaste in your mouth?”
“Why don’t you kiss me again and see—mph.”
I cut him off with a smiling kiss, thrusting my tongue deep into his mouth, exploring every crevice as I push him against the counter.
I pull back, just a little, inhaling his warmth. “Mmm. Thorough, with a hint of coffee. Well done.”
He scrubs his forehead, his eyes still a little shy about meeting mine directly. “I don’t mind saying that I’m having a hard time catching up with all of this,” he says, gesturing at the way my arms are wrapped around him.
“Should I let you go?” I ask, loosening my grip on him.
“No,” he pouts, pushing in closer until I tighten my arms around him again. “It’s just…I feel like you might run off at any moment.”
So do I.
But I don’t say that.
“Mmm,” he says, stroking my hair. “Hit a nerve. Little skittish, are we?”
I bite the inside of my lip and give him a short nod.
He steps outside of my embrace and picks up his mug, sipping his coffee, thoughtful. Careful. “I’m…not exactly brilliant at this, either. I’ve only ever done one-night stands, a few friends with benefits. But this doesn’t feel like that. Or am I wrong?”
“No. You’re not,” I answer, reveling in the soft way he smiles at my words.
He takes a deep breath and blows out an extended exhale, like maybe this is a big step for him, too. “Okay, so let’s just see where this road takes us.”
“I can do that.”
His eyes finally meet mine. God, this man. I lean my forehead against his for a moment, then go in for another sweet kiss.
“It’s just…” he says, mid-kiss, talking against my lips and then my teeth because I can’t help the smile he’s putting on my face. “Don’t you feel like you’ve accidentally taken a mind-altering substance? Or, like, stepped into an alternate reality?”
I respond with a soft laugh and a kiss to his nose. “Fuck yes.”
He leans back, gesturing to himself. “Okay, good, because I’m feeling like Matthew McConaughey after a bongo session, and I wasn’t sure if I were the only one.”
My brows stitch in confusion. “I don’t know what that means.”
He steps away in jaw-dropped surprise, his hand to his chest. “First Rafi doesn’t know who Leslie is, and now you don’t know the McConaughey bongo story?”
Oh man. I really like this version of him fucking with me. I absolutely cannot let on to that little tidbit, or he’ll torture me until the end of time.
