Page 54 of The Perfect Mistake

“Of course. Please don’t apologize,” I say. Mortification is creeping up my neck like a heated blanket.

His eyes snap back to mine. “Don’t apologize?”

“No, please, it’s fine. Truly. I wasn’t unwilling.”

The word stretches out in the space between us, becoming larger than the three little syllables themselves.

He’s gone very still. “Really,” he says.

I take a step closer to him. “Really. And to be fair, I was the one who kissed you, so I should be the one to apologize. You hinted that you weren’t in a headspace for… for… for dating, I suppose, but I guess that means all kinds of relationships.”

He chuckles. Even if it’s a dry sound, he sounds genuinely amused. “Isabel, I think it was pretty clear I was the driving force.”

“Oh,” I say. Oh.

A smile curves the corner of his lips. It makes him look real again, like the same man who hugged me on the balcony when I cried.

“Sorry for occupying your living room,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” I say. “For the other night.”

He reaches out and sweeps a strand of my hair back. I hold my breath as he tucks it behind my ear.

“Deal,” he says quietly, his fingers lingering along my cheek.

It happens more naturally this time, two people falling into one another. I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s him who moves first. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as he lowers his head, and it’s so sweet, the moment right before.

And then he’s kissing me.

It’s slow, thorough, and just as all-consuming as the other night. He tastes faintly like freshly brewed coffee, and I lean into him, my hands coming to rest on his chest. The fabric of his suit jacket feels rich and thick. I grip his lapels, tugging him closer.

He deepens the kiss and slides his hands down, wrapping them around my bare waist. The skin-on-skin contact sends heat racing through me.

Alec draws me flush against his body. I’m a bit sweaty from my workout, but that thought disappears in the next instance. It’s drowned out by the sensations of his lips on mine, his hands gripping me tight.

I push my hand inside the collar of his shirt. The skin of his neck is warm and my fingers snake their way in, curving over his collarbone.

His hands move too, thumbs sliding forward until he’s almost encircling my waist and pressing down gently a few inches above my hipbones. I’m on my tiptoes, and I never want to leave the circle of his arms.

Alec’s mouth travels down my cheek, my neck, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there. He hasn’t shaved today and the feeling of stubble over my skin makes me shiver.

“I need a shower,” I murmur. With his head bent, I feel his hair tickling my skin, and I thread my free hand through his strands.

He kisses my collarbone. “No,” he says gruffly, “you don’t.”

I’ve never felt this kind of heat this fast before. It builds inside me, between my legs, making my heartbeat race, and my breathing rapid. I want to kiss him again. I want to feel his skin, I want his shirt off, and I want to lie on the couch with his weight on top of me.

He tips my head back and kisses a slow, heated trail back to my lips. Pressed against him as I am, I feel an unmistakable ridge against my stomach.

He’s hard.

My eyes close on instinct, and I pull him back toward my lips. He groans, and his hands glide down, over the curve of my ass, and settle beneath it with a firm grip.

Is he going to lift me?

I lock my hands behind his neck and crane into his touch.

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