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“So,” she breaks the silence. “Buffet?”

“Ladies first.” I gesture toward the twenty-four-hour breakfast buffet with a flourish of my hand.

She scoots back out of the booth and floats across the yellow floor with that graceful walk of hers. I won’t lie—I check out her butt. Those pants are incredible all around.

Noel loads up her plate the way she did last time, as do I, then we head back to our booth. Our booth. This place is no longer reserved for just me. It’s ours now, whether she knows it or not. Whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, between us, I’ll never be able to come here without picturing her here beside me.

Todd brings out a coffee carafe and the little tubs of my favorite cinnamon creamer, smiles, and leaves us without a word.

Silence between us is usually comfortable, but as we eat, it seems tense and weird. I miss annoying her and the jabs she shot back at me. I miss our easy banter and how she’s never afraid to give me hell. I have the urge to rile her up, to ruffle her feathers and break the strange awkwardness.

“You’re in need more of my expertise to snag Dr. what’s-his-face, huh? Couldn’t seal the deal the other night?”

She lifts her chin defiantly, and her eyebrows scrunch. “Yeah, well, your silly kiss-blowing made him mad instead of making me desirable. So maybe you shouldn’t have put on a show.”

She’s annoyed, but at least she’s not silently staring down at her pancakes.

“If he got mad over a silly kiss blown through plexiglass, then he must not be very confident. He could’ve taken charge and kissed you himself.” I stare into her eyes. “Or did he kiss you?” My heart is in my throat, waiting for her answer.

“Not yet,” she says, her jaw tense. “But he will.” Something flickers in her eyes that makes me think she’s lying.

“If you’re so sure, then what is tonight’s lesson about?” I ask, leaning closer, daring her to tell me what she truly wants. Because the way she’s staring at me, all hot and annoyed, doesn’t tell me she’s thinking about some other guy.

Her breaths are coming faster, and her eyes drop briefly to my mouth. She bites her bottom lip, looking unsure.

Don’t back down now, tell me what you want, I silently urge.

“I need you to show me how to kiss,” the words rush out of her mouth, like she has to say them before she changes her mind. “I’m not any good.”

Two emotions are at war in my mind; wanting to beat the shit out of the man who made her feel this way. And excitement, because I desperately want to kiss her.

“Your ex made you feel like you were a bad kisser?”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “I’ve never kissed anyone but him. So, yeah.”

My eyes drop down to her mouth, a pouty bottom lip paired with a perfect cupid’s bow on top. Then I look back up at her eyes, still full of fire and sass. “Angel, that’s not possible. You have more passion in one pinky finger than some people have in their entire body.” I inch a little closer. “Maybe you just weren’t kissing the right guy.”

She swallows slowly, her eyes not leaving mine. “I don’t know. I don’t think lessons would hurt.”

I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from smiling. This woman.

Leaning my head down slowly, I give her the chance to change her mind. But she leans in also, her lips are parted and I can feel her breath on my mouth. We’re literally a breath away from each other. If either of us moved even a millimeter, our lips would brush together.

She pulls back slightly, gazing up at me. “What’s the matter? Worried you won’t live up to the hype?”

The challenge in her voice is all it takes for me to press my mouth to hers, hard. Since she thinks she can’t kiss, I probably should’ve started slow, with just a peck. But she doesn’t skip a beat, pressing into my lips with all the passion I knew she was capable of.

I slide my hand up to her neck, gently pressing my palm into the warm, soft skin there. Then I move my hand up to cup her jaw, wanting to touch and memorize every inch of her. Everything about her is sweet, from her sugar cookie scent to her lips that still taste faintly of pancake syrup.

Slanting my head to the side, I part her lips with my own, savoring the pressure of our mouths tangling together. Bringing my other hand up, I cup her face in my palms, angling her head and her mouth right where I need them, giving her the kiss she deserves.

When she finally pulls back to look at me, her lips are pink and swollen, visible proof of our kisses. It makes me want to lean back in and kiss her again.

“Your ex was an idiot,” I whisper, slowly dropping my hands from her face to her legs, where I allow them to rest on her knees.

Her head falls back, and she releases the most brilliant laugh I’ve ever heard. “You think so?” she asks.

“I think he’s the one who needed kissing lessons.”