Neither of us moves.
I look at her—rumpled green sweater, auburn hair messed up from my hands, kiss-swollen mouth—and every rational thought evaporates. I close the distance again, cup her face in both hands, and kiss her one more time. Softer now. A promise instead of a claim. Her hands come up to rest on my chest, andI can feel her heart pounding under my palm—matching mine beat for beat.
When I finally pull back, neither of us speaks for a moment. We just breathe together, foreheads touching, existing in this small warm space we’ve created.
“Car,” I manage against her lips.
“Car,” she agrees.
I open her door. She climbs in. I stand there for a second, willing my body to calm down. Taking deep breaths of cold air that don’t help at all because I can still smell her everywhere—on my coat, in my lungs, soaked into my skin.
This morning I had a plan. Be polite. Keep distance. Figure out what I felt before I let myself feel it.
The plan did not survive contact with Cara Donovan.
Nothing ever does.
I getin the driver’s side. My hands shake slightly as I start the engine.
“So,” she says. “That happened.”
“It did.”
“Was it... okay?”
I look at her. She’s biting her lip, uncertain, and I realize she’s worried she pushed too hard. That I might pull back, rebuild the walls, pretend the last five minutes didn’t happen.
“Cara.” I reach across the console and take her hand. “That was the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Possibly ever.”
Her smile hits me like a punch to the chest.
We drive holding hands, her thumb tracing patterns on my palm. Her scent has settled into something warm and content, filling the car with honey and sunshine. I keep sneaking glances at her—the curve of her smile, the flush still on her cheeks, theway she keeps touching her lips like she can’t quite believe what just happened.
“I had fun today,” she says.
“Me too.”
“I didn’t expect that. I thought you’d want to make me grovel more.”
“You don’t grovel well.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re too stubborn. If I tried to make you grovel, you’d probably challenge me to another race.”
“Fair point.” She squeezes my hand. “But seriously. Thank you. For giving me a chance.”
“I came in with walls up,” I admit. “You knocked them down in about three hours.”
“You make it sound like I’m a wrecking ball.”
“More like water. Slow pressure, then suddenly everything’s flooded.”
“That’s either beautiful or insulting.”
“It’s an observation.”
“Very scientific of you.”
