Our fingers slide together naturally.
Like they have been doing this for years.
I rest my head against his shoulder before I can overthink it. "Looks like we're becoming a pretty good team," I murmur. Gabriel goes very still beside me, then slowly turns his head like he's studying my face.
"You’re the one who said we shouldn’t rush," I remind him.
"I’m reconsidering," he says quietly.
I laugh softly.
Then he lowers his head and kisses me.
The kiss starts slowly.
Careful.
Like we're both testing the moment.
Then something shifts.
Three weeks of careful distance disappears all at once.
I pull him closer.
His hands slide to my waist.
"Natalie," he murmurs. "Are you sure?"
I answer by kissing him again.
He laughs softly against my mouth.
"That seems like a yes," he says.
Daisy lifts her head from the rug.
Watches us for exactly three seconds.
Then flops back down with a dramatic sigh.
"Your dog has zero respect," Gabriel says.
"She approves," I reply.
The laughter melts into something warmer.
He kisses me again slowly at first, his mouth warm and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. Then the kiss deepens. His hand slides into my hair and he tilts my head just enough that our mouths fit together perfectly, the slow brush of his tongue teasing mine until a quiet, breathless laugh escapes me against his lips.
I answer it by leaning in, my hand finding the front of his sweatshirt, fingers curling into the fabric. He tastes like thepasta we shared earlier, warm and familiar. His hand slides to the back of my neck and the kiss deepens and I forget, briefly, how to form a coherent thought.
I pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are dark and searching.
"We don't have to—"
"Gabriel." I pull him back to my mouth before he can finish.
Something shifts between us. The slow, careful quality of it dissolves into something needier, more honest. His hands move to my waist, drawing me closer until I swing one leg over and I'm straddling him, the television casting soft flickering light across us both. He makes a low sound against my lips that does absolutely nothing for my ability to think straight. His hands tighten across my back.
