Page 107 of A Little Tempting

“Lilah,” she repeats. “The girl from the party before Homecoming.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re a saint,” she surmises.

“Nah, I’m still an ass. But an ass who doesn’t like to see girls being hurt.”

Her eyes fall to my mouth. She blinks slowly and clears her throat. “Do you, um, have any more clients lined up?”

“Nah, Lilah was the last one.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Why?”

“I’m retiring.”

“Why would you retire?”

“Guess I realized something.”

Fuck, I can see it. The spark of hope in her eyes. The slight hitch of her breath. The way she’s anxious and on edge. Like I have the power to make or break her right now, and fuck, do I hope it’s the first.

“And what did you realize?” she whispers.

“Maybe Ron and Hermoine aren’t so bad together.”

Her brows furrow. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers and all, but this whole will-they, won't-they friends tension we got going isn’t too bad, either.”

The sound of her quiet amusement causes my chest to tighten as she turns to me fully. “Are you serious right now?”

“Tell me you don’t feel it.”

“Reeves—”

I grab her chin and tug her closer. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

Those aqua-blues bounce between my eyes, and her lips part.

“I like you, Dylan Thorne. I like you a lot. And even though it isn’t my MO to care, with you, I do. I care a lot. Seeing the way you blush or how you look at your feet when you’re uncomfortable… I like you, and I’m stubborn enough to fight for what I want. The real question is, do you like me, too?”

Her straight white teeth nibble on her bottom lip as she stares at me. Eyes wide. Innocence gleaming. I wasn’t kidding when I told her I wouldn’t kiss her again until she had all of me. Without my side gig to overshadow my feelings or make her second-guess them in the first place. And with my obligation to Lilah over? Fuck me, Dylan’s never looked more tempting.

“Answer the question, Dylan,” I push. “Do you like me, too?”

“Yes.” It’s nothing but a whisper. A breath. A secret.

I bask in it, nonetheless. The last of my restraint feels like loose strings of thread, and she’s tugging at them one by one.

“Let me kiss you.”

She hesitates, her breathing staggered and unsteady as her eyes fall to my lips. But she doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t put me out of my misery. Doesn’t give me her consent when I desperately need it.

“Gonna need your permission, Pickles.”

Her breath of laughter touches my cheeks, but she stays quiet, refusing to give me what I need.

“Do you not want me to kiss you?” I ask.

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