I couldn’t bear to look at her. What if I just blew my chance? I’d been patient for so long, and now that waiting, that pining, just landed me in a heap of trouble.
“How the hell did you get in here?” Amanda shouted in a whisper, rolling onto her stomach.
“The window.”
She grabbed her razor thin flip-phone to check the time. “It’s half past eleven, Enzo.”
“I know.” I splayed my fingers over my knees. With a deep breath, I lifted my gaze. “You wanted to know about female mobsters.”
The sleep was fast fading from those sapphire orbs. Amanda blinked hard, then chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, what is the word for it?”
I shrugged. “Why did you want to know?”
Amanda steepled her fingers. “Because I might qualify to join.”
The twinkle in her voice helped to banish the panic coursing through my veins. She wasn’t ordering me out. She didn’t scold me for the stolen kiss.
“What did you do now?” I teased, grinning despite myself.
“Carole was going on and on at lunch about my extracurriculars—when she wasn’t tucking her boobs back into her shirt,” Amanda explained, lip curled up in disgust. “And so, I got to thinking that I should probably have some of those. So I snuck into the school office, and well…my transcript looks pretty damn plump.”
My jaw dropped. “You forged school records. That’s kinda bad ass!”
Amanda smiled broadly, white teeth glittering. “I know!”
“My little mobster—” I surged forward, clasped her hands, andfroze.
We looked at them.
We looked at each other.
“Not too big of lies,” she breathed, although neither of us was paying attention to the conversation. “The kind of work that could be verified if push came to shove.”
I knew she felt it too, the energy pulsing where we touched. My gaze dropped. I didn’t mean to stare at her mouth.
But there we were, inches apart.
The hot rush of air from her exhale fanned my face.
“I can’t believe you actually snuck into my room,” she said, nudging me again, smiling like she knew exactly what she was doing to me. “Pretty bad ass, yourself, Mr. Mobster.”
“I had to see you,” I said, though my voice cracked enough to make her laugh.
Dio mio, that laugh. It made me feel lighter and more off-balance at the same time.
A quiet settled between us. Not awkward, but full. Charged in a way I didn’t have words for yet. My thumb traced over her thick knuckles. Impossibly soft…. She hated the way her hands looked. Mannish was the term she used. But these hands…fuck. I could worship them.
Amanda wet her lips. It made my heart hammer in my ribs.
I swallowed. “Mandy, the way I feel about you—”
“I know,” she whispered, almost like she’d been waiting.
She leaned in first. Barely. Just enough.
I met her halfway.
Our lips brushed softly. Carefully. Like we were both terrified of doing it wrong and hoping desperately we were doing it right. The kiss wasn’t fireworks or explosions. It was smaller. Sweeter.
