Page 36 of Stolen Dreams

I want to lean in closer, skim my nose down the curve of her shoulder, inhale every inch of her skin, and learn exactly where that smell is. Take a long pull and store the scent of her skin in my memory.

With a slight turn of her head, she peeks over her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

No.

“Yes. Sorry.” God, this woman must think I’m a nitwit. “Been a bit foggy today. Not used to working so early.”

Lies.

I shift my hands to fix the collar on the coat as she starts to speak. But the moment my fingertips graze the nape of her neck, we both freeze, her words dying on her tongue.

An insatiable hum dances up my arms and settles in my chest. When she takes her next breath, it’s shaky. Ragged. Telling.

She feels it, too.

There is no chance in hell I’ll only ever be acquaintances or friends with this woman. Not after today. Not after the charge that just passed between us.

But what if I don’t have what it takes to be…more? What if Kaya walks away and shatters me likeshedid?

I yank my hands away and clutch them behind my back. “Sorry,” I mutter.

She spins around and faces me, so close the warmth of her breath ghosts the front of my throat. “Don’t apologize,” she whispers as she meets my gaze. “To live is to feel, to experience, to hope. I’d rather feel all those things than nothing at all.”

Yep. It’s official. I’m done for.

TEN

KAYA

Death Valley–levelheat roars beneath my skin as embarrassment paints me in red splotches.

Whydid I say that? Because for whatever reason, any time I am near this man, my brain short-circuits.

“I’d rather feel all those things than nothing at all.”

Dig the hole and bury me now.

Tingles dance over my skin where his calloused, capable fingers grazed my neck. An infinitesimal, simple touch that was more than a surface-level connection. My hands flutter, eager to reach up and let my fingers sweep over the point of contact, to imprint it permanently on my skin.

But I don’t. Instead, I curl my fingers into loose fists at my sides and ignore my impulses.

Heavy silence looms over us as I study his striking umber irises. Eyes that tell a story yet give nothing away.

“I’m—” I start at the same time he says, “Me?—”

I tuck my lips between my teeth, fighting my smile, as he chuckles and says, “Go ahead.”

For three heartbeats, I capture the sound of his understated laughter. Commit the deep, throaty tones to memory. Let it take up residence in my soul like the feel of his fingers on my skin has.

I like his laugh. Quite a bit. More than I should.

Releasing my lips, I set my smile free. “Was just going to apologize.” I drop my gaze and fumble with the buttons on the coat. “Seems I made things awkward.”

His hands appear at his sides, fingers twitchy as I fasten the cloth-covered buttons. My stomach flips at his restlessness, at his inclination to touch me again.

“Not awkward,” he mumbles.

When I reach the last button, I lift my gaze and am taken aback by the warmth in his eyes. We barely know each other, but his visceral reaction every time he sees me is undeniable. Significant. As if it’s impossible for him to conceal his feelings. It’s refreshing.

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