“Debatable.”
“You kissed me back.”
“That’s not a question.”
“No, it’s definitely not.”
Her gaze stays locked on me as she follows me farther down the aisle.And Christ, it’s intense, but in the best way.I realize I missed this.Not just wanting her, but being with her.
The realization changes the shape of the moment.Because somewhere between coffee and bookstores and accidentally holding her hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, this stopped feeling like nostalgia.It feels present and real.Dangerously real.
Vanessa pauses near the back corner of the store a few minutes later, fingers trailing along a shelf labeled ART HISTORY.Of course.I lean one shoulder against the shelf opposite her.A small smile tugs from me as I recall one sinful moment in the aisles of the library at Northwestern.
“Thinking about anything in particular?”Of course, I have to see if she remembers.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Her cheeks shade the lightest hue of pink as she bites onto her bottom lip.
“It’s one of my better memories.It’s unfortunate you don’t remember.”I goad with a chuckle.
“It’s called protecting my heart.”
“It’s safe with me, I promise.”
She arches a brow in my direction as she slides a book free from the shelf and points it toward me threateningly.“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep.”
“I don’t.”
Her eyes meet mine, the look in them full of question, hope, confusion.The same thing I’m sure reflected in mine.She gives a small shake of her head, a smile breaking free.“You’re dangerous.”
The aisle suddenly feels narrower than it did a minute ago.Or maybe it’s just her.She turns toward another shelf, and when she does, her shoulder brushes against my chest in the confined space between rows.Neither of us moves away.The air shifts.Not in a dramatic way.But we’re both aware.
Vanessa glances up at me, still half-smiling.“Getting kicked out of the Northwestern Library was one of our finer moments.”
My mouth curves into a wicked smile.“It was entirely your fault.”
“You were distracting.”
“You climbed into my lap in the middle of the art history section.”I chuff in defense.
“You started it.”
“I was reading.”
“That’s an extremely generous interpretation of events.”
I laugh quietly under my breath, and the sound seems to catch both of us off guard.Because it’s easy again.Too easy.Vanessa’s gaze lingers on my mouth for one dangerous second too long.Then mine drops to hers.And suddenly neither of us is smiling anymore.
I step closer, slowly enough that she has every opportunity to pull away.She doesn’t.My hand glides up the side of her neck, fingers disappearing into the soft hair at the nape of her neck, my gaze locked on hers the entire time.Always eye contact.Always her choice.
Vanessa’s breathing shifts first.Then she leans in.Barely.But it’s permission and that’s all it takes.I tug her closer and press my lips to hers.I kiss her slowly this time.No tension breaking.No desperation.Just familiarity.
Her mouth parts beneath mine, one hand sliding up my chest like she remembers exactly where she belongs there, and something inside me goes dangerously still at the feeling.
Christ.I remember this too well.The taste of coffee on her lips.The quiet sound she makes when I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers.The way she melts into me without hesitation halfway through it.
My forehead rests against hers when we finally separate, both of us breathing harder than we should be for a Sunday afternoon in a bookstore.Vanessa’s eyes stay closed for one extra second before she opens them.
And there it is again.That look.Like she forgot to be careful for a minute.“I think we already covered that this was never part of our problem.”
