Past Loretta, who pats my shoulder like she’s proud.
Past Mason, who winks.
Past Reid, who gives me a smug thumbs-up.
I don’t stop until we’re near the bakehouse, the square behind us, the cold sharp and quiet again.
Only then do I let myself breathe.
Willa looks up at me, eyes wide. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says softly.
“Yes,” I say, voice rough. “I did.”
“Why?”
Because you’remine.
The words echo in my head like thunder.
I barely know her.
I havenoright to claim her.
But the second she fell on ice and right into my arms yesterday, she became mine.
I rememberedeverything.
The way she fit.
The way she looked at me.
The way itfelt.
I cup her cheek, gloved thumb brushing her skin. She gasps, soft and sweet. Her lips part. I lean in, watching her. Waiting for her to pull away.
She doesn’t.
I close the gap and kiss her.
Her mouth is warm against mine. Soft. She tastes like chocolate and cinnamon and something I didn’t know I needed. For one heartbeat, she freezes.
Then she melts into me.
She sighs against my lips, and I’m done. I deepen the kiss, tilting my head. Her fingers twist into my jacket. My arm tightens around her waist, pulling her flush against me.
We kiss under the glow of lights, the sound of music fading behind us. And everything feels right.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing harder than before.
Her hands are still clutched in my flannel.
My forehead rests against hers.
“We can’t,” she whispers.
But her voice doesn’t sound certain.
“We already did,” I murmur. “And I don’t want to stop.”
