Amelie dug it out of her pocket and laid it in his hand. Touching his palm sent fire racing through her once again. She fought the urge to fling herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her again.
Maurice’s face showed nothing of what he might be thinking. No sign that he wanted to kiss her again. No sign of anything.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Less than a minute later, he was back. “All clear.”
Amelie entered her apartment. It looked the same as it had after they’d cleaned up the mess earlier that day. Had it been just that morning? It felt more like a lifetime since she’d entered her apartment last.
“Lock the door behind me,” Maurice said behind her.
She spun to see him standing on the landing, pulling the door closed between them.
Amelie, suddenly afraid, put out a hand to stop him. “Are you leaving me?”
He shook his head. “I’ll sleep out here.”
She shook her head. “You can’t sleep out there. What if it rains?”
“The chance of rain tonight is less than ten percent.”
“But you can’t sleep out there.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said.
“Then come inside and sleep on the sofa.”
He shook his head.
“Please,” she whispered. “I promise not to throw myself at you again.”
His lips twitched. “I’m not afraid of that.”
She frowned. “Then what are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid I might not be able to control myself with you.”
Her heartbeat fluttered and then raced. “What if I’m okay with that?”
He sighed and stepped through the door and stood in front of her without reaching out to hold her. “Amelie, you’re a beautiful, amazing woman. The kind of woman who deserves a man who can commit to her.”
Amelie nodded. “And you’re not the kind of man who wants to commit.”
Maurice shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
Again, Amelie nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I think so.” She lifted her chin. “But I refuse to let you sleep out on the landing. You’ll sleep on the sofa. If it makes you feel better, I’ll lock my bedroom door—and I won’t try to kiss you again.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
He stared down at her hand for a moment and then back up into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was tired and a little loopy.” She forced a smile. “Forget about it. We’ll just be friends.” She kept her hand out.
Eventually, he took it, gave it a gentle shake and let go too quickly.
“You can shower first.” She reached around him, closed the door and turned the deadbolt. “I’m going to pour a glass of wine.”
Maurice showered in record time, emerging from her bedroom before Amelie was halfway through her glass of wine. He came out wearing his jeans and nothing else, a towel wrapped around his naked shoulders.
