My eyebrows lift. “Mild?”
“Well, I didn’t want to overstep.”
I meet his gaze again. His eyes are steady, playful, with something deeper simmering below.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “I’ll let you know when it’s too much.”
The light turns green. He doesn’t move right away. Just watches me for a second longer. Then his hand tightens ever so slightly on the gear shift, and he accelerates, turning down my street.
Finally, he clears his throat. “I didn’t expect to have this much fun tonight.”
The words are simple. Sincere. A little reckless.
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t. I let it settle, warm and aching somewhere in my chest.
We pull into my driveway, the porch light casting everything in a soft glow. He shifts into park and kills the engine. He turns toward me, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other resting near the console, inches from mine. “I’m glad you came out tonight. I’ve been wanting to see you outside of mailbox territory again ever since the block party.”
I unfasten my seatbelt, and the click it makes is much too loud. “Well, you’ve officially seen me at my worst and medium-best now. Next stop: Costco, where I really shine.” Reaching for my purse with one hand and the door handle with the other, I pause. “Thanks for tonight. For driving. For being good company.”
He turns toward me again, his expression unreadable but focused.
“You want me to walk you to the door?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I think if we stand too close, I might forget that I’m supposed to be sad.”
Noah’s grin falters. “And that would be bad?”
“Potentially. For my reputation. For the HOA.”
He chuckles, but it’s quieter now. He gets out of the truck and walks around to my door, opening it for me and offering his arm. I take it, and he laces his fingers with mine—warm, steady, a little hesitant.
As we head toward my porch, he says softly, “What if I’m a little afraid of forgetting too… but I still want to try?” He leans a little closer, and before I can process it, his fingers reach up and brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It’s a small touch. Barely a touch.
But my body responds like it’s everything.
And then, before my brain can shoutwhat are you doing, I lean in.
Just slightly. Just enough.
He meets me halfway. “May I?”
My voice is a whisper. “Yes.”
The kiss starts tentatively, testing my reaction. His lips are soft, careful, like he doesn’t want to scare me off. But when I don’t pull back, when I press in, enough to let him know I’m still here and I want this, his hand finds my jaw. His thumb brushes against my cheek, and something in me splinters open.
The kiss deepens, slow and hot and aching, like he’s been thinking about this longer than he’ll ever admit. Like he’s memorizing it.
My fingers find the front of his jacket, searching for something to hold onto, something to tether me while my heart does gymnastics in my ribcage. He slants my chin higher, and his tongue gently brushes along my lips.
And then, too soon, he eases back. Gently. Reluctantly. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s had to do all night.
His forehead rests against mine for a breathless second before his voice cascades down my back, husky and broken. “I should probably go.”
My whole body protests, but I nod. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
He lingers for a second longer, eyes searching mine like he’s looking for a reason to stay.
God, I want to give him one. I want to reach out and say,Come inside. Let me get lost in you. Make me forget, just for tonight.
