Page 142 of Puck Me Back to Life

I blink. “What?”

He laughs again. “You're crushing me.”

I look down. Somewhere during the kissing I'd managed to squish him deeply into the cushions.

“Right.” I immediately shift backward. “Sorry.”

The apology leaves my mouth before I think about it.

Kai's eyebrows rise. “You just apologized.”

“I know.”

“I don't think I've ever heard you do that.”

“It was an accident.”

He smiles. “I'll treasure it forever.”

I roll my eyes and climb back into the driver's seat before I embarrass myself any further. Kai follows a moment later, still smiling to himself. I start the truck. The engine rumbles to life.

For several blocks neither of us speaks. I'm too busy trying to untangle my own thoughts.

Feelings. I have feelings.

Fantastic.

Exactly what I was trying to avoid. This was supposed to be uncomplicated.

Two adults. Good chemistry. Mutual kink interests.

Instead, I've somehow become emotionally invested in a man who apologizes to movie theater employees for getting caught kissing.

Dante is going to be unbearable when he figures this out. I'm doomed.

The realization earns a quiet sigh.

Beside me, Kai shifts in his seat. Without saying a word, he reaches across the center console. His fingers slip into mine, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

I glance over. He's already closing his eyes. The adrenaline from yesterday. The emotions. Actually eating a full meal for the first time in days. They're finally catching up with him.

Within minutes, his breathing evens out.

His head tips gently toward the passenger window. He's asleep. His hand never leaves mine.

I drive the rest of the way home one-handed. Every now and then I glance over at him.

Still sleeping.

Still holding on.

I squeeze his fingers once, careful not to wake him.

He unconsciously squeezes back.

God help me.

By the time we pull into my parking garage, Kai is barely awake. He blinks slowly as the car comes to a stop, looking around like he's forgotten where we are. His hair is sticking up from where it rested against the window during the drive, and one side of his face still carries the faint imprint of the seatbelt.