Page 48 of Someone to Watch Over Me

“I know, and I get that it’s a big deal. If you’re not ready, that’s totally fine.”

“Is it?”

His gaze shifts to my lips. “Yeah, it is. You’re the boss. We’re on your timetable.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Now he’s looking into my eyes again. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, um, now?”

“Now would be good.”

“Your move, sweetheart.”

I appreciate, more than he’ll ever know, that he’s left the ball completely in my court, which proves that he not only understands what a big deal this is for me, but he respects my right to decide when and where and with whom. I place my hand on his face, and his eyes close as he seems to absorb the impact of my touch, as if it’s something he’s longed for.

I call on every bit of courage I can find to close that final inch that stands between friendship and romance. Every minute we’ve spent together runs through my mind like a beautiful story that’s played out one meal and one cup of coffee and one conversation and one laugh at a time. This man has been there for me. He’s made my life easier and better by offering me a place to be when I needed one so badly. But more than that, he’s given me himself, time and time again, with no pressure or expectations or anything other than exactly what I needed.

Nothing is certain in this thing called life. Our time together could be brief, or it could span decades. No one ever knows what they’re going to get ahead of time, and even knowing what I do now about his family history and the near miss of his heart attack, I want to be with him.

I touch my lips to his, giving him the lightest brush of lip against lip.

He sucks in a sharp deep breath, and his eyes open, as if he doesn’t want to miss a second of this. “Lexi.”

“Yes, Tom?”

“Do it again.”

This time when I press my lips against his, I linger, taking in the sensations that course through me from the barest of caresses.

His left hand joins the right one on my face, tipping my head to improve the angle as he takes over, sliding his lips over mine.

Like a spark landing on dry tinder, I’m a wildfire of emotion and need as the feeling of desire comes back to me in a tsunami. I’d forgotten what it was like to want this, to need it, to crave it.

I curl my hand around his neck and part my lips, inviting him to take more.

“Lex. Are you sure? You’re okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“I’ve never been better in my whole life than I am right now.”

That’s a pretty great endorsement for a girl who hasn’t been kissed in years. I give a gentle tug to bring him back to me.

This time, our mouths are open, his tongue is teasing mine, and I’m completely lost to him.

I’m not sure how or when we end up stretched out on the sofa, arms wrapped around each other as we kiss like two people who’ve been separated for years and have finally come back together.

Should he be doing this? Not even that thought can convince me to stop the loveliest thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. I trust Tom to know his own limits, and judging by the way he’s kissing me, he’s not thinking about limits. I lose track of time and place and everything that isn’t his lips and tongue and the way his hand slides down my back to cup my ass and pull me in tight against his erection.

That’s when I come to my senses. “Tom.”

“Lexi.”

“That’s enough.”

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