My hand drops from the door handle.
"You okay?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.
"Fine. Just jumpy." She forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Storms make me nervous."
I should leave. Should walk out that door and not come back until I can trust myself around her. But the thought of her alone in this bookstore while thunder shakes the walls and her hands tremble—
I can't do it.
"I'm not leaving you here scared." The words come out before I can stop them.
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." I take a step toward her, then another, until I'm close enough to smell vanilla again. Close enough to see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. "But I can't walk out that door knowing you're afraid."
Her eyes search mine, and something shifts in her expression. Softens.
"I don't want you to go," she whispers.
The honesty in those six words detonates something in my chest.
I'm across the remaining distance before I can think. Before I can talk myself out of it. Before the voice in my head that saysthis is a mistakecan get any louder.
My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. Her skin is soft and warm, and she's looking up at me with those wide eyes that make it hard to breathe.
"Tell me to stop," I say, and my voice is barely recognizable. Rough. Desperate.
She doesn't.
Her hands come up to rest against my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. Not pushing away. Holding on.
"Don't stop," she breathes.
I lower my mouth to hers.
The first touch of her lips against mine destroys everything I've been holding back. She tastes like coffee and vanilla and something sweeter underneath, something I want to drown in. My hands slide into her hair, tilting her head to the angle I need, and she opens for me with a soft sound that makes my knees weak.
The kiss deepens. I feel her everywhere, her soft curves pressed against hard muscle, her hands fisting my shirt, her breathing going ragged. I walk her backward until her back hits the wall, and I cage her in with my body. Not trapping. Sheltering. Showing her, without words, that I've got her. That she's safe. That nothing's getting to her while I'm here.
She whimpers into my mouth, and the sound nearly destroys me.
Thunder rolls overhead again, but this time she doesn't flinch. Her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan against her lips. The storm outside can rage all it wants. In here, she's not afraid.
I force myself to gentle the kiss. To pull back before I take more than she's ready to give. My forehead drops to hers, and my hands are shaking where they frame her face.
"I've been wanting to do that since the moment I walked through your door," I admit.
"Me too." Her voice is breathless, wonder-struck.
Outside, rain lashes the windows. Thunder rumbles, distant now. She's not trembling anymore. Not humming under her breath to soothe herself. Just looking at me like I'm something worth keeping.
I kiss her forehead, then force myself to step back. The loss of contact is physical pain, but I need space before I do something stupid. Like kiss her again. Like never leave.
"The storm's getting worse," I say, my voice still rough from the kiss.
For a second, I almost tell her I'm staying. That I'll camp out on her couch and make sure nothing happens to her through the night. But if I stay, I won't be able to keep my hands off her. I'll kiss her again. And again. And I won't stop at kissing.
She deserves better than me taking what I want when we've known each other less than forty-eight hours.
