“The capillary channels have to self-regulate. Think of it like… an interstate system for molecules. But most people screw up the flow-to-volume ratios because they don’t account for thermodynamic variance.”
I squint at her and, at last, finally interject a question of my own. “So… you hacked your own molecule highway?”
Minerva swings her legs off the side of her chair so that her whole body is facing me. “Yes! That’s exactly it! No one’s ever—how did you get that?!”
“I was listening.’
Minerva squeaks. Next thing I know, she’s in my chair with me, her arms wrapped around my neck, her body pressed up against mine. Her cheek is pressed to mine. “Nobodylistens! That’s… you’re…”
Her position is precarious. She’s right on the edge of the chair, so I reach for her waist to hold her in place. She’s so delicate, and her whole body is vibrating with excitement.
She’s small—maybe five-three—but her body is this perfect mix of soft and strong. A trim waist that fits in my hands, hips with just enough curve to make my pulse kick, and long legs that distract me every damn time she crosses a room. Her skin has this warm, sunlit tone to it, the kind that makes me want to trace every inch with my mouth. And her face… Christ.
Large eyes framed by lashes so dark they look smudged. A straight, delicate nose. Full lips that she keeps worrying between her teeth like she has no idea how tempting she is. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders. It’s dark, glossy, a little wild, like she hasn’t realized she’s beautiful enough to stop hiding behind it.
And now, with her cheeks turning pink and her breath catching, she looks nothing like the plain, forgettable girl she thinks she is. She looks like she’s blooming right in front of me.
Her face hovers inches from mine. Her lips part. She meets my eyes—really meets them—and the force of that quiet courage rocks me. From this close, being seen by her feels intimate in a way that grabs me by the throat.
This is nice. Better than nice. For a moment, I think she’s going to lift that pretty mouth to mine. I want to kiss her, to pull her into my lap, but if I do, I’ll scare her off. She’s my guestandmy employee. If I push her into something she doesn’t want, she has nowhere else to go.
But if she kissed me? I’d happily claim her mouth with mine.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
I hope.
“I’m serious, Tristan. I’ve never had someone listen the way you do.”
“I’ve never wanted to listen so bad.” My voice is barely audible over the rushing of my blood.
She tilts her face. Just a hair. Her nose brushes mine. Her breath fans my mouth.
I tilt my head to meet her. Our lips almost brush. I can feel the heat of her skin, the tremble in her limbs. I can even feel the beat of her heart echoing in my own chest. This is so intense, and I’ve never felt anything like it. Lust isn’t the right word. I want her, not to satisfy a carnal need, but because I want to touch her for its own sake.
I want to curl up with her and keep her safe from every bad thing people have told her about herself.
I want—
Minerva gasps and jerks away. As abruptly as she touched me, she’s gone, leaving my arms empty and my skin a bit cooler to the touch.
“Sorry. I—sorry. That was a lot. I’m… a lot.”
“Don’t apologize for being excited about something, Min.”
She curls up in the other chair. “I crossed a line. That will never happen again.”
What if I want it to happen again?The instinct to fix it claws up my throat. But you can’t fix people. Not the way I fixplays or broken sticks. You can only show them you’re not going anywhere.
“You didn’t. Or at least, not one that I’m invested in maintaining. For the record? If you’d kissed me just now, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”
I shouldn’t have said that. I know it the second it leaves my mouth, but fuck—I want her to know. I need her to know.
Her blush goes nuclear. She looks down, fiddling with the hem of her hoodie. “It’s probably better that I didn’t. I’m… not great at things like this.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I tell her. And then, because I know in my bones that if we leave the conversation on this note, she’ll avoid me for days, I ask, “So, you’ve hacked this molecule highway. Now what?”
From his ferret-sized hammock, Kepler chirps in his sleep like a furry third wheel. Minerva takes a shaky breath before launching into another explanation. She’s more subdued this time, but at least she isn’t running away or having a panic attack.
