Page 56 of The Charm of You

I reel in the line and dip my head. “Am I? Didn’t realize it. My apologies—I know you wanted silence.”

“It’s, um… nice.” He scratches the back of his head.

“It was my father’s idea.” I clutch the rod as one particular memory flashes through my mind, as clear as if it were caught on camera. “The first time he took me fishing, I couldn’t get the timing right. I was letting go too soon even back then. He suggested I use the beats of a song to help with my timing, so he and I would hum one of our favorites.” I smile at Austin. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“It’s funny what we remember when the world quiets down.”

“New York is usually so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. Sometimes, I don’t feel like a real individual there, like I’m just another crack on the sidewalk or something,” I say absentmindedly, and the rod dangles in my limp grasp as I fall into a trance.

“Shame,” he says.

Another smile tugs loose as I peer over at him. “Why’s that?”

“It’s a shame that New York doesn’t know what it has.” He flicks his gaze toward me, then averts it toward the water again. I would’ve missed the peek had I not been looking.

A swarm of butterflies erupts in my stomach. My heart swells with a special kind of joy I’ve never felt before—and it’s all thanks to him.

Austin steps closer to me, and my breath hitches. What is he up to?

His tight jaw softens as he hesitantly says, “You can talk to me about your dad… whenever you want. I’m… sorry I was an asshole about it before.”

I gulp. “Thank you.”

“And you don’t, uh, have to stop singing. I like it.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Obviously.” He grunts. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m perfectly capable of such things.”

“If you say so.”

My skin warms with the shift in the energy between us. As he meticulously maneuvers his way toward me, anticipation skips throughout my lower stomach.

I remain stock-still, and when he reaches me, he pauses a beat. Then he loosens the rod from my grip and sets it aside along with his in order to guide me onto level ground.

Once I’m steady on my feet, he grips my upper arms, and I practically melt under his touch. “If I kiss you again, are you going to tell me it’s a mistake?” His jaw flexes like he’s daring me to tell him not to kiss me.

“Are you?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He slams his mouth to mine in a feverish kiss much like the first one we shared.

It’s hungry, bruising, and full of desire.

His tongue clashes with mine, and the sensations he elicits reach my toes.

Nothing about it suggests he’ll immediately regret this, and I won’t, either.

I slide my hands through his wavy hair, further mussing it up as I tug him closer and closer until every inch of me molds to his body.

Austin slides his hands down my back and cups my ass cheeks, kneading them like he can’t get enough. Like he’s angry he hasn’t had his hands on me this whole afternoon.

He explores my mouth eagerly and a bit clumsily as if can’t a grip on himself.

Neither can I.

I ache for him. The heat in my core burns with need.

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