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“What?”

I cross the room.

Her expression changes before I reach her, the question disappearing when she realizes what I’m doing. I catch her face between my hands and kiss her hard enough that she takes a startled step backward, her hands finding my waist on instinct.

She laughs into my mouth.

“What—”

I kiss her again before she can finish.

Whatever had been simmering between us since we stepped inside catches all at once.

Merry’s fingers tighten at my waist and pull me against her, and the little sound that escapes her when our bodies meet goes through me so quickly that any thought of slowing down vanishes. I slide one hand into her hair and feel the damp strands curl around my fingers as I angle her mouth beneath mine.

She tastes like wine and the mint she’d taken from the bowl at the restaurant as we were leaving.

Merry’s hands move up my back, and I press closer without breaking the kiss, impatient with even the small amount of space between us.

“Flora,” she manages when I move my mouth along her jaw.

There is laughter still caught in her voice, but less of it now.

I pull back just far enough to look at her.

Her breathing has changed.

So has mine.

“What was that for?”

I brush my thumb over her cheek. “You were being too cute.”

For half a second, she only stares at me. Then the corner of her mouth starts to lift.

“I didn’t realize my relationship with a cat would be such a turn-on for you.”

I groan and kiss her again, mostly to shut her up.

Merry laughs, but the sound fades when my hand settles at her waist and slips beneath the hem of her sweater. Her skin is warm against my palm, warmer than I expect after being outside, and she goes still for the smallest fraction of a second before leaning into the touch.

That does something entirely different to me.

The humor drains out of the moment without taking the warmth with it.

Merry’s eyes open when I pull back, and suddenly we’re close enough that I can see the faint smudge of mascara beneath one of them and the shimmer of her blush high on her cheekbones.

Neither of us pretends we don’t know where this is going.

I run my thumb slowly over the bare skin at her side, and her breath catches.

Merry’s eyes drop to my mouth, and when she kisses me this time, there’s nothing playful about it.

She pushes into me with enough force that I take a step backward. Then another.

The backs of my knees hit something soft, and I barely register the couch before I lose my balance. Merry makes a startled sound as we go down together, and I land against the cushions with her half on top of me, one of my arms still wrapped around her waist.

I use that moment, that suspended second, to stare at her.