“Should we do something to correct that?”
“Itison my life list,” I tell him.
“Before or after sunrise yoga?”
I laugh. “Definitely before.”
“Well then,” he hums, stepping closer, “let me help you cross it off.”
The teasing note in his voice fades into something softer.
His hand finds my waist, warm and steady, fingers splaying slightly as he draws me toward him. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. Just certain.
Snow gathers in the dark strands of his hair. A flake melts against my cheek, cool against overheated skin. My breathing is shallow and uneven as his thumb traces a slow arc against my hip.
He lifts his other hand, brushing a stray curl away from my face. His knuckles skim my jaw before his palm settles there, cradling. Guiding.
The air between us feels charged with the kind of excitement that usually makes everything sharper — the lights brighter, the air colder, the promise sweeter.
I wait for that familiar rush, the tightening in my stomach, the electric pull that makes the rest of the world fall away.
Joshua leans in, and his breath ghosts over my lips, warm against the winter air.
Finally, his mouth touches mine.
Soft.
Gentle.
Careful.
His lips move with practiced ease, coaxing rather than claiming. He tightens his grip on my waist, pulling me flush against him as flakes drift down around us like we’re inside a snow globe.
It’s romantic.
It’s sweet.
It’s…nice.
But I don’t want nice. I want passion. Want my body to light on fire.
I want Hayden.
I quickly silence the thought as I kiss Joshua back.
When he parts his lips, I follow, our tongues brushing in a brief, exploratory sweep.
And I still feel nothing.
No lightning strike. No loss of gravity. No hunger consuming me.
Just a kiss beneath falling snow.
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine in visible puffs.
“I could keep doing that all night. But I have to work tomorrow.” He pulls away, meeting my eyes. “Maybe we can do this again?”
Even though the kiss didn’t undo me, I nod. “I’d like that.”
