I pull the truck over to the side of the road and turn to face her.
"Say that again," I say roughly.
"I'm falling for you."
I reach for her, cupping her face in both hands. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."
"Kevin—"
I kiss her.
Months of waiting and wanting and holding myself back, I kiss her.
It's gentle at first—careful, asking permission. But then she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and her hands fist in my shirt, and careful goes out the window.
I angle her head and deepen the kiss, tasting her, learning her, pouring months of wanting into the way my mouth moves against hers. She kisses me back like she's drowning and I'm air, and when we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"That," I say, "was real."
"Yeah," she whispers. "It was."
I rest my forehead against hers, trying to get my racing heart under control.
"We should get home," she says after a moment.
Home. Not my home. But home. As in ours.
"Yeah," I say. "We should."
But I kiss her again first, because now that I've started, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop.
And from the way she kisses me back, I don't think she wants me to.
Chapter 9
Steph
The drive back to my apartment feels like the longest five minutes of my life.
Kevin's hand wraps around mine across the console, his thumb tracing slow circles on my palm, sending heat spiraling through my entire body. Every time I glance over at him, I find him taking quick looks at me, taking his eyes off the road for a second, but his gaze has such an intensity that it makes my breath catch.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice rough.
"Nervous," I admit. "But good nervous. Excited nervous."
His hand tightens on mine. "We don't have to—"
"I want to," I interrupt. "I want you. I'm just..." I trail off, trying to find the words. "It's been a long time since I wanted someone like this. Since I felt safe enough to want someone like this."
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "You set the pace, Steph. Whatever you need. However long it takes."
The reassurance settles something in my chest. With Kevin, I'm not just wanted—I'm safe. And that makes all the difference.
When we pull up to my building, he comes around to open my door. His hand finds the small of my back as we climb the stairs, warm and steady, and I'm hyperaware of every point of contact between us.
My hands shake as I unlock the door.
We step inside, and Kevin closes the door behind us, turning the lock with a soft click.
