Page 19 of Misbooked for Love

“So?” He smiles widely, his brown eyes shining even in the dim light. “What do you say?”

“If you had proposed today, I would have said no.”

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles.

We talk and laugh until our cheeks hurt, and as the evening flies by, it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of us. The night could end right here, in this perfect little bubble, and it would be enough. But I can’t help the sinking feeling that whatever this is, whatever we’re building, has an expiration date.

Six days. That’s all we have. And as much as I want to forget that, to lose myself in the moment, I know it’s there, hovering just out of sight.

For now, though, I let it go. I focus on Tom, on the way his eyes light up when he laughs, and I let myself believe, just for tonight, that this could be more than just a beautiful, fleeting mistake.

13

CLARA

The night airis crisp and biting as we step out of the restaurant, a shiver running down my spine despite the warmth still lingering from our dinner. Tom’s hand finds the small of my back again, steadying me as we navigate the icy path back toward the villa. The snow crunches beneath our feet, and the world around us feels quiet, like it’s holding its breath.

We walk in a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling, and every time I glance over at him, he’s looking at me with this soft, almost disbelieving smile that sends my heart racing. The town glows under the soft, muted lights of streetlamps, and everything feels magical, like we’re the only two people in the world.

“Did you have fun?” Tom asks, breaking the silence as we approach the steps to the villa. He’s got that lopsided grin again, the one that makes me feel like he’s genuinely happy, like this isn’t just another night out.

“I did,” I admit, feeling the warmth of his hand through my thick coat. And it’s the truth. “More than I thought I would.”

He raises an eyebrow, mock offended. “Hey, I can be fun, you know.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “I never said you couldn’t.”

We reach the door, and for a second, I hesitate. The night could end here, neatly tied up with a polite goodnight and a friendly wave. It would be the sensible thing to do—the smart thing. But there’s something about the way Tom looks at me, the unspoken promise in his eyes, that makes me linger.

He unlocks the door, and we step inside, the villa’s warmth enveloping us immediately. I kick off my heels, feeling the familiar tug of uncertainty pulling at my mind. This is usually the part where I second-guess myself, where I make an excuse to leave before things get messy. But tonight, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to overthink. I just want to be here, in this moment, with him.

Tom slips off his coat and hangs it on the rack by the door, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’sstalling for time. He turns to me, his gaze lingering a little too long, and I can feel the tension between us, electric and charged.

“Do you want a drink or something?” he asks, his voice quieter than before, like he’s not sure if he should even be offering. “Or…I don’t know.”

“I’m good,” I say softly, taking a step closer to him. There’s barely half a meter of space between us now, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body, pulling me like a magnet.

We’re standing in the middle of the living room, the soft glow of the fireplace casting shadows across his face. I can see every line, every contour, and there’s a tenderness there that makes my heart ache. This man, who I barely knew less than a week ago, feels like something familiar and foreign all at once.

“Tom,” I whisper, but I don’t know what I’m about to say. All I know is that I’m caught between wanting to hold on and wanting to let go, and he’s the only thing anchoring me.

He reaches out, his hand brushing against my cheek, and the contact sends a shiver through me. “Clara,” he says, his voice low, almost reverent. “I…”

Whatever he’s about to say is lost as I close the gap between us, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that feels like it’s been building for days. It’s slow at first, tentative, both of us testing the waters, but thenhis arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and everything else fades away.

I can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat against my chest, and it’s grounding, reassuring in a way I didn’t expect. His hands move to my waist, sliding up my back, and I lose myself in the taste of him, the way he sighs into the kiss, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.

We stumble back, knocking into the coffee table, and I let out a breathless laugh, the sound breaking the intensity of the moment. Tom grins against my lips, and there’s something playful in his eyes, something that makes me want to keep going, to see where this will take us.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, but there’s no real apology in his voice. He’s not sorry at all, and neither am I.

“Don’t be,” I whisper back, my fingers threading through his hair. “Don’t you dare be.”

We move together, inching our way toward the massive couch, our kisses growing more urgent, more desperate. Tom’s hands are everywhere—cupping my face, skimming down my sides, holding me like he’s afraid I might slip away. I feel alive, every nerve ending tingling with the thrill of being this close to him, of finally giving in to what’s been simmering between us.

He sits down on the couch, pulling me onto his lap, and I straddle him, my dress hitching up as I press closer. His breath is warm against my neck, and I archinto him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he trails kisses along my collarbone.

“Clara,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want. “Tell me if this is too much.”

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