Page 58 of This is a Kissing Book

“We need more information. Can you—?” Linc starts.

He goes quiet when a security guard’s radio crackles.

We both freeze.

I catch fragments. “… suspicious behavior in the south wing … requesting backup …”

My eyes widen. We’re going to get thrown out, or worse, I’ll get fired since Linc’s father is here. I’m prone to instantly spiraling into worst-case scenarios. Must be my guilty conscience. Thanks, Dad.

Linc tilts his head toward another exit to the room. “We should⁠—”

We walk briskly toward the opposite end of the gallery, attempting nonchalance despite the fact that we just broke the “no photography” rule. I can hear the guard’s footsteps behind us and more radio chatter.

“This way.” Linc pulls me down a narrow, dark-paneled corridor lined with smaller exhibits.

We can hear multiple sets of footsteps now and urgent voices. My heart is hammering so hard I’m afraid it’s echoing off the gallery walls.

Linc tugs us into the shadows of an alcove with a large Civil War battle scene painting just as the footsteps get closer.

The voices are right around the corner now. “Check that corridor … two suspects, male and female …”

His eyes meet mine, and I can see him calculating options. Then his gaze drops to my lips, and his expression shifts. His eyes get heavy.

“Trust me,” Linc breathes.

Before I can ask what he means, he cups my face and leans in. His lips hover just above mine—so close I can feel his breath warm against my skin, can count his eyelashes, can see a twinkle in his eyes that reminds me of the glitter bomb.

But who are the bad guys in this scenario? Us for being where we don’t belong in the gallery? For being closer than a boss and an assistant should be? For being from different worlds?

And yet, there is no denying the space between us flashes and crackles with summer storm lightning. After the count of three, the thunder of our heartbeats follows.

His lips part.

My breath catches.

His thumb brushes across my cheek.

I forget about security guards and missing paintings and every rational thought I’ve ever had.

We’re frozen in this moment of almost.

It’s a breath before the plunge.

My heart is beating so hard I’m sure he can feel it.

His forehead touches mine.

I can practically taste the mint in the air.

One tiny movement forward from either of us and …

Footsteps pass by us, but I barely register them. All I know is Linc. How his gaze skims mine. The way every nerve ending in my body tingles from his proximity.

The voices fade, but neither of us moves. We stay suspended in this almost-kiss, this moment that feels like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Finally, he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, leaving me dizzy and wanting.

“What was that?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.