“Can we talk for a moment?” he began, his voice steady and yet uncertain in the way a man sounded when he wasn’t sure what the answer would be.
She nodded, maybe too quickly, like some goofy bobblehead figurine, and cursed herself for it. Smooth. Really smooth.
“Were you upset that I kissed your cheek the other night?”
Her heart practically catapulted into her throat. Upset? Did he not know what that single brush of his lips had done to her? She had relived it—over and over again—every night since.
“Upset, no…” she managed.
“No?” His head tilted, his voice dipping lower.
Nettie nearly dropped to the floor when his hand suddenly lifted, cupping the side of her neck. His palm was warm, steady, grounding her even as her heart tried to bolt right out of her chest. His thumb stroked the edge of her jawline, the tenderest of touches that made her breath catch.
“I was…” he murmured softly.
“You were?” Her voice was barely a squeak, trembling with disbelief.
“I was kicking myself because I wanted to really kiss you – but I also don’t want to ruin things between us.”
Her chest tightened, and she swore the world tilted sideways. He wanted to kiss her? Really kiss her? Heat pooled in her cheeks, her skin prickling with awareness.
“Then don’t,” she breathed before she could stop herself, her eyes locking on his like she was caught in a current too strong to fight. “I’m in no rush, and I would rather this be right than to ruin it by…”
“Kissing me would ruin it?”
“No,” she whispered mindlessly, her voice softer than air. She was melting—melting so fast she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. She had spent so long keeping her feelings boxed up, wrapped tight so no one could see, and now here they were, spilling everywhere. “I just… I tend to ruin things… and this is a good thing… my favorite thing… oh gosh, Tate…”
His breath hitched, his thumb brushing her jaw as if he couldn’t help it. “I was thinking the same thing.”
He leaned closer, and her entire body lit up with panic and longing in equal measure. Her hand lifted almost on instinct,pressing lightly against his chest—not to push him away, but because she needed something solid to hold on to before she completely unraveled.
“We can’t ruin this…” she begged softly, though her words sounded weak, like she was pleading with herself more than him.
He was so close. Close enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, the intensity in his eyes that made her feel utterly seen. His nose brushed against hers, the gentlest, sweetest touch—and it broke her open in ways she didn’t understand.
He was so fierce with everyone else, quick-tempered and sharp, but with her… he was infinitely tender. With her, he was the boy she always knew and had suspected lived beneath all that armor.
“Should I stop?” he asked huskily, his thumb sliding from her jaw to the edge of her chin—the tiniest nudge downward, a silent invitation for her to open to him.
And heaven help her—she obeyed.
Her lips parted.
Her breath stuttered.
It was as if every nerve ending in her body had been rewired and now only responded to him. She felt him everywhere—in her chest, in her stomach, in her soul. His lower lip grazed hers, feather-light, and her body melted at the single brush of contact. Her hands were traitors, climbing higher up his chest, clutching at his shirt, aching to drag him closer.
“SUP STITCHES!”
The shout ripped through the spell like a thunderclap. Nettie froze, her eyes flying open. The heat of the moment, the closeness, the intimacy—it shattered instantly.
Tate’s eyes snapped wide too, nearly black with frustration, with knowledge of exactly what they’d almost done. Horrorflickered in them, matched by her own. They leaped apart so fast it was as if they’d both been burned.
“Gina…” Nettie whispered, the name tumbling out without thought.
Tate turned sharply, a snarl curling his lips, his entire body shifting with protective instinct. He moved in front of her, pushing her back behind him with one strong arm as if shielding her from the intrusion, his shoulders squared, his presence bristling.
Nettie stood there in the shadow of him, breathless, trembling, her lips still tingling, her soul still aching from a kiss that hadn’t quite happened… yet.
