My gaze falls on the book she’s holding. I put it in her bag yesterday. A few weeks ago she told me about it and looked so excited. I couldn’t help but order it for her. From the looks of it she’s read a lot of chapters. Her makeshift bookmark is wedged deep inside the book. Bookmarks are next on my list.
“You didn’t text me.” My voice is deep and firm.
Hope gulps, looking all sorts of nervous. “I… forgot.”
She’s lying.
I put my elbow on the console between the seats and lean over. “What’s the real reason?”
She backs up until her spine hits the door. “I…um…”
She is not herself today.
Raising my arm, I touch her cheek and caress. “Did your dad do something?”
She shakes her head. “I got lost in reading.”
Her words are a muffled whisper as I cup the side of her face and lift. Her pretty brown eyes stare at me. They are the reason that got me into this feeling mess—not that I’m complaining.
Brown eyes are so common. Every other person has them. I see them a thousand throughout the day, but something about this girl’s—my girl—eyes is just different. Theyaffectme. One look at her and I’m a goner.
The color dances the line of whiskey and honey, the perfect blend that makes the exquisite shade of brown I’ve ever seen. They are addictive in nature, and filled with so much innocence and sweetness. There’s no way you can’t no say to her or won’t do whatever that she says. Or perhaps it’s only me who’s a prisoner of this gaze.
I near her and her soft breaths graze my lips.
For fuck’s sake.
Does she have any idea how much she affects me?
Blood rushes down to my body into an area thatshouldn’tbe getting aroused at this moment.
It’s not the right time.
Not until she says so.
There is tiny space between our mouths, if one moves even a little, our lips will meet.
But before that happens, I need to have the conversation. Even though I can hardly think of words right now. All I want is to taste those damn lips.
“Rose, I need to talk to you,” I rasp.
Hope is staring at my lips and I’m half convinced that she’s not a single word.
That would be a big problem, because I don’t want to talk, only kiss her.
She nods but doesn’t look at me.
Please.
Stop staring at my mouth.
Or I won’t be the gentleman that I always am with you.
I lean back her head and only then she looks at me. “You are my girlfriend.”
Way to be fucking straightforward.
In her romance novels, this title involved a question that I didn’t ask.
