Page 29 of When We Were Younger

"Fine, Stephen. Be a gentleman and walk me to the door," she concedes, and slides that same hand down my stomach, over my forearm to my outstretched palm and places it there. At the door, she turns to face me. She looks up at me from under those long, dark lashes, her blue eyes sparkling like midnights and promises under the gleam of the porch light.

"It's early," she says. I nod.

"I'd invite you in, but it's not exactly my house."

"It's okay. Daisy May doesn't get along very well with the dachshunds in there," I gesture towards the house.

"Oh no, they're not scared of her, are they?"

"The opposite. They were at a doggy daycare together once last year and those wiener dogs terrorizedDaisy May with their mere existence. She cowers in fear whenever we pass them on our walks.”

Dorothea smiles, laughing softly at my tale, but then shakes her head.

"Still, it feels weird to end a date at-" she lifts her wrists to check the smart watch stacked amongst dainty bracelets, "nine thirty-two,"

"Hmm. Was this a date?"

"No. I just meant that-" she sputters, and it's so fucking cute. It takes all my willpower not to pull her close, take her, fuse her soul back to mine.

"Because, if it was a date," I say, cutting into her adorable rumbling, "That means I should be trying to kiss you right now."

She opens her mouth, then shuts it.

"It's a good thing it wasn't a date then," she says, her chin tilting up as her eyes challenge me. I watch her chest rise and fall, faster and faster still with each breath. I feel her lean in, even if it's slight. Like our bodies are finally tuned back in to the muscle memory that screamstouch, touch, touch.

"It's a damn good thing," I say, taking a step forward. It's a slight movement, infinitesimal, but she hums in response.

"I would hate to give you the wrong idea," she whispers, a breathy noise that makes my jeans tighten. Her tongue peaks out, swiping across her bottom lip, wetting it, readying it for my mouth.

Her words are saying one thing, but her body is saying something entirely different. If this were an oldmovie, I'd swoop down and capture her lips without another word, but I need her words to get on board with her body language before I make a move. If I'm going to kiss Dorothea, I want–no, I need her full, enthusiastic consent.

"Sweetheart," I breathe, and her eyes flutter close. "Can I kiss you?"

She nods.

"Words, please. Tell me with your words, babe,"

"Yes. Please kiss me."

My vision blurs, my blood sings, and even though I'm dying–fucking dying–to get my lips on hers, I move in slowly. There's barely any space left between us but still, I want to savor it. Need to savor it.

I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of raspberry and the faint, minty essence leftover from the hot chocolates we drank earlier. My palms twitch as I place them on her hips, full and soft and beautifully feminine under my touch.

I close my eyes, and just as our lips are about to brush, I'm met with a palm to my mouth instead.

16

DOTTIE

"This is weird," I say, and immediately feel like slinking back in on myself. I quickly pull my hand from his mouth before the heat of his lips can sear its way under my skin.

Leave it to me to ruin this moment before it even begins. I expect him to step away, pull back, maybe even chastise me, but he doesn't move. He just stands there, his fingers featherlight on my hip, his face close. So fucking close that I can practically feel the atoms bouncing off between us. His eyes are locked in on my lips, zeroed in like a sniper ready to take their shot.

"Not weird because it's weird, but because it's just-" I try to backtrack, but he cuts me off. Not with words, but with his thumb, and a soft press of it on my lower lip. I shiver at the contact, the intimacy, the delicious warmth of his skin on me.

"Because this isn't the first kiss. We've done thisbefore," he says with a sly smile, perfectly articulating my own racing thoughts.

"For hours," I agree on a whisper. He keeps his thumb on my lip, and when my breath hits him, he licks his own lips.

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