He seems pleased by this. “Yours is going to make it.”
I look at him. “How are you so sure?”
He stops eating and looks at me. “How doyoufeel about it?”
“Terrified,” I admit. Then a smile bubbles to the surface. “But excited.”
He points his fork at me. “That’s how I know.” He takes a drink, then adds nonchalantly, ”Plus, you’ve got me.”
Do I?
Do I have you, Miles?
A shrug. “Plus, I believe in you.” He takes a bite of chicken and couscous and chews, oblivious to how these words are affecting me. How starved I am to hear someone say them. How different it feels to have someone support me and not try to tear me down.
It’s this thought that makes my eyes cloud over, and I take a drink in hopes that doing so will hide all of these unwanted emotions.
That’s when Miles notices.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” He turns toward me, but when I don’t move, he reaches over and spins me on the stool so I’m facing him.
I smile. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just—”
His expression holds—serious, concerned.
“I just appreciate you believing in me,” I say.
At that, his brow quirks. “Ohno. Are you getting sentimental on me?”
I give his shoulder a shove, and he catches my wrist in his hand and holds it for a moment that feels like an eternity. My breath is trapped in my throat as I meet his eyes, surprised to find that the concerned expression has shifted into something else.
Something unreadable.
Something that looks—dangerous.
His grip loosens and slips from my wrist to my hand. “I do believe in you, Claire. I think you’re amazing.”
My laugh is nervous.
“You’re so used to being overlooked, you don’t realize it, but...” He twines his fingers through mine and looks down at our hands.
But what? Why did he stop talking?
His thumb moves slowly across the side of my hand, and myskin tingles underneath his soft touch. I lift my chin to look at him and find his eyes trained on me. My mind floods with fear—the way I felt when I had to attempt a cartwheel on the balance beam in gymnastics when I was a kid. I stood there staring at the beam, then at my foot, certain there was no way for me to stay safe if I tried it.
That’s how I feel now. A little unsafe. A little uncertain. Trying to figure out hownotto fall.
My heart is at risk here, but the logical part of me seems to be out of the office.
Miles draws in a long, slow breath, moving forward on the stool and letting out a quiet, husky “Claire” before he takes my face with both hands and kisses me so fully I feel it in every nerve ending in my body.
My breath catches as I feel his lips on mine—soft, sweet, firm lips that are hungry for more. Of me.
More of me?
Miles is kissing me. And I’m kissing him back. And it’s good. It’sreallygood.
My body rises off the stool, moving closer to him, our chests touching as my hands wrap up around his back, pulling him closer and savoring every sweet second of this kiss.
