“I’m really glad you suck at pushing me away.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re infuriating,” he says gently.
“You adore me.”
“I’m working on accepting that,” he says. “And… I’m falling too, okay? It’s not just you out there on the ledge. I’m right beside you. That’s what I wanted to say.”
My heart completely gives up on pretending it’s a normal organ and turns into a fireworks factory.
I turn fully onto my side, facing him, my hand finding the edge of my pillow. “Knight?” I whisper.
“Yeah?” His voice is closer now. He’s rolled onto his side too. I can feel the heat of his body through the thin gap, the faint brush of air as he breathes.
“Can I…?”
I don’t even know what I’m asking.
Yes, I do.
I want to close that stupid inch of space.
He seems to understand anyway.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Whatever it is. Yeah.”
That permission knocks something loose.
I inch forward, closing that last bit of distance until my forehead brushes his. My hand slides up, fingertips grazing his shoulder, then the side of his neck.
He sucks in a breath. “Still not touching you,” he murmurs, words a little strained. “On principle.”
“Sure,” I breathe. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
His lips curve against mine before we’ve even kissed.
Then he closes the last millimeter.
The kiss is nothing like the half-panicked, half-explosive one on the couch.
This one is slow.
Careful.
His mouth is warm and soft and sure, moving against mine with a tenderness that makes my eyes sting. His hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair, not pulling me in so much as anchoring me there like he’s afraid I’ll float away.
Heat rolls through me, slow and steady.
I slide closer, my body fitting against his like that’s where it’s been trying to be this whole time. My knee brushes his thigh as his chest presses against mine. The blanket tangles around us as we shift, finding a rhythm.
The kiss deepens.
He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, asking, not demanding. I open for him with a small, helpless sound that only makes him pull me closer. Our legs tangle. His arm wraps around my waist, hand spreading over my lower back, holding me like I’m something precious and breakable and his.
He keeps the kiss just this side of gentle, even as it grows hotter, even as my fingers curl into his shirt, even as my body arches unconsciously toward his.
Every time I try to chase more, he slows it down, grounding us in the now, not the nearly.
It’s maddening.
