Page 51 of Tempt

Maybe nothing is supposed to go the way we think.

“I cried when you messaged that your train was going to be late,” I confess. “It feels like we’re living in a few hours here and there, and losing any of them is upsetting. More than it should be, to be honest.”

There it is again. Should.

I breathe in deeply and tangle my fingers in his hair. “I want more—”

“I love you.”

“—time,” I whisper, because I was mid thought and his rough words don’t register at first. “No pressure.”

Wait. What?

His eyes are impossibly bright. He’s smiling now, carefully.I love you.

We stand there, entwined in the middle of Stratford’s wee train station. Thank God I live in a town full of overwrought drama types, because this is nothing here, but somewhere else it might be a real scene.

He loves me?

“No pressure,” he says gruffly.

“That was my line,” I squeak.

“It was a good one.”

“Sam.”

“Hazel.”

“Don’t do the thing where you just say my name instead of explaining yourself.” I bite my lip and will myself not to cry again. I’m probably going to get my period any second, just to make this weekend extra-special. “What do you mean, you love me?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you, constantly. Work has been an unholy mess for months, and it doesn’t touch me, because any time I pull out my phone, you’ve sent me something funny or sexy or sweet, and it makes my fucking day. I want to camp out on your couch and work in my sweatpants. I want—”

My heart explodes. He wants to spend more time with me. In sweatpants. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you own sweatpants?”

“I’ll buy some. We can go to Walmart.”

I don’t think Sam has ever been to a suburban strip mall. This will be fun, like an anthropology field trip.

He rubs his thumb against the corner of my mouth. “What did you mean that you want more time?”

“More time together. I was thinking…” My heart thumps hard against my ribs. “I could stay at your place more often. During the week. And maybe on the weekend…”

“I’ll come here.” He kisses me again, hard this time, and he doesn’t stop until I’m gasping and horny and really conflicted about the fact we’re still in public, because I want to crawl up his body and do filthy things right freaking now. But then he keeps talking, and it’s better than sex. “I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life, Hazel. I’ve wasted a lot of time being unhappy and making poor choices. I don’t want to waste another chance to tell you how special you are to me. How happy you make me.”

“Okay.” I’m grinning now. “Can we go back to my place?”

“Hell yes.” He tosses his bag over his shoulder, keeping his other arm wrapped tightly around me.

Once we’re outside, he slides his hand down my arm, tangling our gloved fingers together. “I’m sorry you were upset this morning.”

“Yeah.” I turn my face to the weak winter sun. “I’m fine now. And I distracted myself with work.”

“Tell me.”

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