I paused in the doorway, watching him, taking in the quiet intensity of him, the way he shut the world out when he worked. It should have been easy to step in, say something, yank him out of it, but I stayed where I was, held there by the weight of what had happened between us.
It felt right. Not only how our bodies fit together, but also the ache of where he’d been and how he’d left his mark inside me. He was mine in a way I couldn’t explain and didn’t need to justify.
He hadn’t run even when I told him about the decision tree.
I stepped into the room then, the door clicking softly behind me, and he glanced up, then took the coffee from me with a nod of thanks. I placed the cookies next to him.
“You need sugar,” I said, and pushed them closer. “And you like chocolate.”
He didn’t argue, taking a cookie and eating it in three bites as he stared at the screen, crumbs on his lips which I did not reach to brush away. He licked his lip to collect them, and that was far more satisfying. “Where did they come from?”
“I packed them for you.”
He stared up at me, and I knew he was processing something important, and for a moment, I felt a knot in my chest that I couldn’t understand what he might be feeling. Had I made him angry? Overstepped? None of that would matter with anyone else, but it did with Caleb.
“That’s actually sweet,” he said at last, frowning at me, and then nibbling the cookie, and the knot unraveled.
“I want to try kissing again,” I said.
“Why?”
“I need more evidence.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a line?” I stared at him, and he rolled his eyes.
“Sorry?”
“A pickup line. You know, to get in my pants.”
“No, it’s not a pickup line, and we don’t have time for more sex right now.”
He shook his head. “Why do you need more evidence of kissing?”
“I need to be sure how I felt wasn’t an anomaly.”
“Are you calling my kissing an anomaly?” he said, with a smile, likely teasing me, and I felt weird for a few seconds.
“Yes. No. Can we just do it?”
“Say please.”
I understood this was mocking and that I needed to do what he said if I wanted more data. “Please.”
I felt peaceful for a moment, almost as if I’denjoyedsaying “please”.
Intriguing.
He turned in his chair, his fingers curled into the front of my shirt, and he tugged me down, and my body responded without hesitation, as I let the kiss deepen. I set my hand on his shoulder and leaned in, taking what he was offering, and not for a second did I feel as if I couldn’t breathe.
When I pulled back, his pulse was racing under his skin, visible, impossible to ignore. I lifted my fingers, pressed them lightly to his neck, then to my own, checking, comparing. Mine was slower but not by much.
He tilted his head into the touch, watching me. “How did that go?”
“I could breathe.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
