“I’m sneaking into the bathroom to check on you, unless you’re referring to something else,” he replied, failing miserably to subdue his smile.
“I said I was fine!”
He hummed, as if considering. “You want to talk about it?”
“Oh my God, I am not talking to youhere,” she hissed. “Someone could come in!”
“I’ve been coming over to this house since I was four and no one has ever walked in on me in this bathroom.”
“They don’t need to walk in. They could just walk by!”
“Then we’ll just have to be quiet.”
She huffed. “We’ll talk later.”
It was meant to sound final, a signal that he could go.
He didn’t move.
“What?” she asked.
He took a step toward her, then another. The bathroom was small, so after just two steps he was already almost touching her, so close she had to crane her head up to meet his gaze.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Not talking.”
She tried to laugh. It came out like a shaky sigh. “We’re not having sex in the Laura Ashley half bath.”
He paused. “I’m not looking to have sex with you, Emma.”
A small bubble of tension burst in her chest. “Oh.”
“Not right now, anyway,” he added, cocking a playful eyebrow at her. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
The last bit of her defenses fell as she looked up at him. A few strands of his dark hair had fallen across his face, highlighting his golden-brown eyes. An intense warmth swelled in her chest, so overwhelming that her breath caught. She really, truly loved him.
She didn’t even think before leaning up and kissing him. Her mouth pressed softly against his, a tentative motion as if testing the parameters of this new territory. She could feel his smile grow against her lips before he deepened it, swallowing the tight moan that escaped her throat as his tongue found hers.
“Shhh.” He somehow managed the soft direction while never breaking contact. Then his arm reached around her waist, pulling her against his body as he leaned forward. Her back arched and she felt herself pinned against the cold sink.
When had her arms wrapped themselves around his neck? She didn’t know and honestly, she didn’t care. All that mattered wasKnightley: the taste of wine on his tongue, the feel of his cashmere sweater under her fingertips. He was warm and safe and the world seemed to melt away as he kissed her, licking and nipping as if they had all the time in the world.
Then Mrs. Pawloski’s shrill laugh echoed just beyond the bathroom door.
“It was polyester! Can you believe it?” she exclaimed from somewhere down the hallway.
Oh God. They were still in the bathroom.
As if on cue, they both pulled back. Emma’s hand went to her lips; despite the brevity of the kiss, they still tingled.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
Knightley watched the motion, his gaze dark. “Never apologize for that.”
Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent, that familiar blend of leather and pine.
“I really do have something serious to talk to you about, you know,” she whispered.
