“Me?”
“You weren't part of any plan, Emma. You just... happened. And I'm choosing to see where this goes.”
I don't pull my hand away. “That's a lot of pressure to put on a girl who's just making pasta.”
He laughs. The tension breaks. “It's very good pasta.”
“It's garlic and olive oil. A child could make it.”
“A child didn't make it. You did.” He squeezes my hand before letting go, picks up his fork. “That matters.”
We eat. We talk. He tells me about the early days of ELK, the risks he took, the people who told him he'd fail. I tell him about my first job out of college, the boss who took credit for my work, the slow climb to being taken seriously.
The conversation flows like water finding its path. Easy. Natural.
After dinner, I wash the dishes. He protests. I ignore him.
“Movie?” I ask, drying my hands.
We settle on the couch, his massive TV dwarfing whatever film we pick. Something mindless. I don't remember the title five minutes in because I'm too aware of him beside me. The warmth of his body. The way his arm stretches along the back of the couch. Not quite touching my shoulders, but close.
Halfway through, I realize I've migrated closer. My head is almost on his shoulder. His hand has found my hair, fingers threading through the strands.
“Emma,” he says quietly.
I look up. His face is close. Closer than it should be.
“Yeah?”
His hand stills in my hair.
The moment stretches. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat.
Then he pulls back.
“Goodnight, Emma,” he says. His voice is rough.
I blink. “It's only nine-thirty.”
“If you stay here much longer, I'm going to kiss you.” His jaw tightens. “And when I kiss you, I don't want any doubt. I want it to be because you're sure.”
I stare at him.
“So goodnight,” he says again. Softer. “Sleep well.”
I stand on unsteady legs. Walk to the hallway. Turn back.
He's watching me. The want written all over his face, held in check by sheer will.
“Goodnight, Kai,” I manage.
I close my bedroom door and lean against it, heart pounding.
He's waiting for me to be sure.
The terrifying thing is, I think I already am.
CHAPTER 33
