Page 140 of Puck Me Back to Life

“I mean it more every time.”

“Nah. You smile too much when you say it.”

He points at me. “Stop psychoanalyzing me.”

His ears somehow become even pinker.

I reach for his hand again as we step outside. This time, he slips his fingers between mine without hesitation. The gesture feels so natural that I don't think about it until we're already halfway across the parking lot.

Then I do think about it. Far too much.

The parking garage is almost empty this early in the afternoon. Our footsteps echo softly off the concrete as we make our way toward my truck.

I unlock the car. Before Kai can climb into the passenger seat, I catch his wrist.

He looks back at me. “What?”

I don't answer. Instead, I gently guide him toward the back door.

His eyebrows lift. “Ash?”

I open it.

He gives me a look that somehow manages to be suspicious and trusting at the same time.

“Get in.”

He does. Of course he does. He always does. Not because he's weak. Not because he can't make his own decisions. Because somewhere along the way he decided I was safe enough to follow.

Kai climbs into the back seat without another question. I follow, pulling the door shut behind us. I lean forward and he meets me halfway. Our lips find each other easily now. Without hesitation. Without uncertainty.

The kiss is frantic and needy. His fingers curl into the front of my jacket. My hand is knotted in his hair as I push him down into the cushions. His legs wrap around my waist as his hands pull up my shirt so he can drag his hands across my back.

I kiss down his neck, my cock hard and straining in my pants.

“Ash.” He says my name on the sweetest sigh, and something inside me immediately melts.

God.

He's so soft.

Every emotion crossing his face without a care in the world.

Every feeling crosses his face before he has the chance to hide it.

Every blush.

Every laugh.

Every moment of uncertainty.

He's endlessly kind even when the world has given him every reason not to be. Yesterday, he'd been worried about Noah instead of himself. Today, he'd apologized to a movie theater employee like he'd personally ruined the man's afternoon. He thanks waitresses. He remembers birthdays. He alphabetizes spice cabinets because it makes other people's lives easier. He still says thank you to vending machines when they actually work.

He's…

He's good.

The realization lands so suddenly that I actually pull away.