My mouth tilts. “How so?”
She gestures between us. “First time, I walked up to you. Took matters into my own hands.”
“I remember,” I say. “But, you were using it to your advantage.”
“Well, and now?” Her brows lift. “You’re dragging me into alleyways.”
“Improvising.”
She laughs “Or payback.”
I study her for a second, then ask, “How would you want it?”
She cocks her head to one side. “Want what?”
“A kiss,” I say. “If it were up to you.”
Her lips part, surprise flickering across her face. Then she tilts her head slightly, considering.
“You wouldn’t rush,” she says.
I shift closer, closing the space between us by inches, not all at once. I do the opposite of rushing, in fact, dragging out the time it takes for me to adjust myself so I’m firmly in her orbit.
Her breath changes. “And you’d…look at me first,” she adds, quieter now. “Like you meant it.”
I hold her gaze, steady and deliberate, and she swallows. A quick count to ten with aone-one-hundred, two-one-hundredcadence until I get there.
“And maybe,” she continues, voice softer once I do, “you’d touch me first—lightly. Slowly drag your fingertips across my arm.”
I keep my eyes locked on hers as my hand lifts, brushing another strand of hair away from her face. I wait a second before I move my hand to her wrist, and do exactly as she’s told me she wants it done.
She inhales sharply.
“And then?” I murmur.
Her eyes flick down, then back up. “Then you’d kiss me.”
So I do and there’s no hesitation. She meets me halfway, her hand sliding higher on my shoulder, gripping me as she pulls me in. The kiss settles into something sure, unhurried but full, like we’ve both stopped second-guessing it.
My hand moves to her waist, drawing her closer until there’s no gap left between us. She presses in like this isn’t new. Like we’ve been doing this forever.
From the street, the noise dulls into the background—present, but distant. All of my attention narrows to her. The warmth of her mouth, the way she responds without pulling away.
And I don’t want the moment to end. Ever.
One of the side doors lining the alley flies open. I barely register the sound before it’s too late.
“—and if he thinks I’m taking that bin out again—” A man steps out, back to us, dragging a trash can behind him.
We break apart instantly. Like we’ve been caught doing something we absolutely were doing, but forgot we ducked into an alleyway by someone’s home. Whoops.
Vivian’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide for half a second before she starts laughing. Full, breathless laughter she’s clearly trying—and failing—to hold in.
“Oh my—” she chokes out, turning slightly away, pressing her fingers harder over her lips like that might help. It doesn’t.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling once, trying to settle my nervous system as the guy turns around. He sees us and pauses. He looks between us, then the alley, then back at us again.
“Right,” he says slowly, like he’s piecing it together in real time.
