Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips. There’s a pull in the air between us, soft but unmistakable.
“You’ll bruise,” I murmur, brushing lightly over the forming bump. “But you’re okay.”
She bites her lip again. Hard. And it’s that tiny movement that makes something inside me wobble.
With my finger, I trace a slow line down her cheek. Her lips part on a whisper of breath, as if the simple act of breathing has become a decision.
My heartbeat hammers in my ribs.
I step closer without thinking.
She doesn’t move.
Not away, anyway.
“Emma,” I whisper.
Her fingers curl into my T-shirt. Barely there. Tentative. But it feels like someone’s lit a flare in the middle of the room.
I back her gently against the wall, waiting, giving her every possible chance to change her mind. She doesn’t. She closes her eyes. Lifts her chin just a fraction.
And that’s all the permission I need.
I lean in and kiss her.
Her lips are soft, then warm, then suddenly eager. She melts into me with a desperate kind of honesty that nearly knocks me sideways. Her hands slide up to my chest, one drifting to my cheek, and when she lets out a tiny, breathy moan, every thought I’ve ever had is replaced by the need to get closer.
I kiss her deeper. She kisses back with a heat that floors me.
We stumble sideways and bump my toolbox, sending it crashing across the floor. The metallic bang snaps us both back to earth.
We freeze.
She stares at me, breathless, lips kiss-swollen, eyes wide with shock and something that looks a lot like hunger.
I kiss her once more, gentle and slow, then force myself to step back before I forget how to behave.
“Let me take you out,” I say, voice low. “A proper date.”
Fear flickers across her face. Then longing. Then worry.
“It might be just dinner for you,” she says quietly. “But for me it’ll be anxiety and overthinking and trying not to say something stupid.”
“You won’t,” I say, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Everything you’ve done today has made me want to know you more.”
She swallows. “You can do better.”
“I don’t want better,” I tell her. “I want you.”
Her breath catches.
“One hour,” I say. “One meal. No pressure.”
She hesitates. Then she nods.
Relief hits so hard it almost makes me dizzy.
“We’ll tidy up here, then I’ll take you.”
