Page 175 of Snap Shot

Indi gives me a slow-motion, open-mouthed smile of shock. “Whaaat?” Her free hand whiffs at the air as she pshaws. “Olives are disgusting.”

Fucking hell. This is not how I wanted to tell her.

She goes silent again for the last few minutes of the drive, running a hand over her nose, cheeks, eyebrows, and chin, as if she's only now discovering them.

I offer to help when she struggles with the apartment door. “Okay, schpoopy,” she sings, wagging a lazy finger at me. “But no funny business. Keep your hands” —she holds up her palms and wiggles her fingers— “to yourself.”

Indi starts a tilted descent down the wall.

I prop her up with my body, pinning her to the door as I unlock it. “That's not what you said when my tongue was in your tight cunt last night.”

A blush slathers itself across the apples of her cheeks.

“I believe your exact words were, ‘Please, Landon. Touch me—’”

“Shhhhhh—shut up, you naughty! The neighbors will hear.”

The door gives as I turn the handle and my hand lands on her lower back to prevent a fall. “Don't kid yourself, baby. Guaranteed they've already heard you.”

We go vertical again and she drops her bag and coat on the hardwood as the door snaps shut behind us. I get down on one knee and move her hands to my shoulders.

“Hold on. I'm gonna help you out of these shoes.” The zippers on her boots are frozen and it takes a minute to lower them enough so she can step out.

Indi cracks her ankles and sighs, slumping her shoulders. “Am I naked yet?”

“No.” My hand finds hers. She squeezes it. “But I'll get you some water and help you into your pajamas.”

A soft whine buzzes against my neck as I finish buttoning her flannel top.

“My head hurts. And my nipples told me I'm cold.”

She shudders and doesn't protest when I scoop her up. Mollified after I tuck her into bed, her eyes droop.

“You're going now?”

“I don't have to. You want me to stay?”

Please, for fuck's sake, say yes.

I move a few messy strands away from her face. The stark, angled cut grew out since we met this summer. Her waves are in full flood, effortless and as gorgeous as she is.

Her hand grasps my wrist, holding it in place over her jaw. “The truth or the lawyer lie?”

“The truth. Always the truth.”

“I want you to stay. I want you to stay so much.” She nuzzles and leaves a tender kiss in my palm. “And that's exactly why you can't.”

“What do you mean?” A laugh exits my nose while pushing her hair back onto the pillow with my fingers. “Of course, I can stay.”

“That's so tingly, but you can't. Because if you stay tonight” —Indi's body relaxes further— “I'll end up kissing you. And I'm afraid if I kiss you, you'll kiss me back and I'll fall in love with you.”

Sounds good to me.

Her eyes tug downward in the corners, keeping a fresh coat of unreleased tears at bay.

“I'm afraid of wanting to fall asleep in your arms every night and waking up there every morning. I'm afraid of telling you all that because then you'll say this was all fake. That it was a joke.”

“Baby.” My heart clenches painfully in my chest. “It's not fake. It's not a joke.”

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