I’m backing away, but my smile is growing as I watch him. In his damp tee and dark jeans, he somehow pulls it off. The twinkling lights of my umbrella spin in his hands as he whirls around, a grin on his face. He holds out a hand, waiting. “Dance with me, Emmy.”
“No,” I protest, but it’s half-hearted. I take a step toward him. “This is silly.”
“So be silly with me.”
My breath catches when he grabs my hand. And then we’re both dancing, Ben leading as we twirl up the street, his hand on the small of my back as we spin.
And he keeps singing, keeps dancing even as I break out into laughter, gripping onto his damp shoulders tightly. My black boots crash into the puddles beneath us, my tights damp and the edges of my dress soaked with the rain.
“Stay with me,” he says into my ear. “No thoughts, Emmy. Just dancing.”
So we dance. And I find the rhythm, both of us sinking into each other as we spin and spin until my head is whirling. Ben settles into a hum, the low timbre of his voice settling into my bones as he slows us until we’re swaying in place.
“There,” he says finally. And the laughter is still there, but his voice is deeper now. I shiver against him. “Breathe. Live in the little moments, Emmy. That’s all it takes. The bigger things will still be there, whether you worry about them or not.”
Little moments.
I crane my head to look up. Ben is much taller than I am, my head level with his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, sure and strong against my hand. My words slip out without thought. “This doesn’t feel like a little moment.”
It feels like something more. My own heart pounds, pushing me to do something else.
When was the last time you did something completely random, Emmy Marsters?
With Ben Bennett smiling down at me, drops of water dripping from the ends of his hair… Maybe I want to take a risk. His smile falters, slips. “No, it doesn’t.”
We watch each other, still swaying to music neither of us can hear in the middle of the street.
I don’t know who moves first.
Maybe Ben.
Maybe me.
But then our lips are together, mint and heat against my mouth as his hand tightens on my back and he pulls me in closer. My umbrella falls as he wraps his other hand around the back of my head.
I feel dizzy. Dizzy with the sensation of Ben, with his taste, with the way he holds me so gently as his mouth moves over mine.
My hand is against his face, feeling the edge of stubble beneath my palm even as my other hand grips his hair.
I want him closer.
I can’t get enough.
We’re both breathing heavily when we break apart. Ben searches my face, his own eyes wild as he pushes back my hair, his fingers brushing the scar that mars my face.
He doesn’t even look at it. He’s looking atme.
And the look in his eyes weakens my knees.
“My apartment,” I whisper finally, biting my lip. Hesitantly. “It’s close.”
His thumb sweeps across my lips, pulling my lower lip free from my teeth. “Where did you come from?”
At his wondering words, I feel the heat creep over my cheeks. He kisses me again.
And again.
As if he can’t get enough.
