Page 36 of Keep Me Close

He stills. “No.” A beat passes before he amends, “I don’t know. Maybe?”

I swallow. “Should we, like, practice or something?”

The words hang between us, heavy and impossible to take back.

Slowly, he turns his body more fully to mine. “I’m sorry. You want to practice kissing?”

Oh my God. Why did I say that?

“It’s not like I want to,” I blurt as heat climbs up my neck. “I just— If it happens, we don’t want it to be awkward.” I tuck my legs beneath me, trying to look unaffected when I’m anything but. “It won’t be very convincing if it looks like we’ve never actually kissed before.”

The silence that falls over us is thick and suffocating. Just when it feels like it’ll shatter, his gaze drops to my mouth, and my breath catches before his attention returns to my eyes.

When his jaw flexes, I think he might actually agree. Anticipation spools low in my belly, my body going still in response.

With an exhale, he drags a hand through his hair. “No.”

Everything inside me crashes at the flat response.

“Right. Yeah.” I nod, as if he didn’t just annihilate me on the spot. “It was just an idea.”

I turn back to the TV, pretending to watch, all the while silently plotting a way out of this embarrassing mess.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

My eyes widen as I glance at him. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know… Maybe you’re right. We might have to kiss. It’s probably a good idea for us to practice.”

Our gazes lock, and my pulse stutters. He doesn’t smile or crack a joke as he repositions himself on the couch before lifting his hand and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers graze my cheek, and it’s tempting to lean into his touch. I shift, trying to scoot closer. It feels like my heart will pound right out of my chest before his lips ever touch mine.

Why am I so nervous?

It’s just a kiss.

No big deal.

He doesn’t rush the moment. It’s almost as if he’s giving me time to pump the brakes and put a stop to it. But that’s not going to happen. Over the years, I’ve wondered what it would feel like to kiss Knox McNichols.

So now that I have a legit excuse to do it, I’m going through with it. I’m dying to know if he’s as skilled as all the tabloids claim.

Unsure where to place my hands, they tentatively settle on his chest. And, yes, it’s just as hard as I suspected it would be. His blue eyes darken as he leans in, stopping less than an inch away, until I can feel the warmth of his breath ghost across my lips.

Everything inside me quiets as his thumb rests lightly along my jaw.

“One kiss,” he murmurs.

Yes. One kiss. That’s it.

I’m sure it’ll be bad, maybe awkward, and I’ll never think about it again.

In the end, this will be a good thing.

When he doesn’t move, I take the initiative and close the distance between us until my mouth can feather across his.

It’s a soft, barely-there caress.

I inhale, and the sound seems to ripple through him.