Page 67 of Begin Again

“So,” Theo says, his voice low and his tone teasing. “Did I hear my girl, Taylor Swift on your playlist?”

I grin. “I added a few tracks just for you. I know what a big fan you are.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m a huge fan. I might even have all her albums on vinyl.”

“Don’t lie,” I tease, tilting my head. “You strike me as more of a man in his1989era.”

He suddenly spins me, catching me off guard, and making me laugh as I stumble slightly before he pulls me back in. “If Iwerea fan,” he muses, his hand firm against my waist, “I’d obviously be more into herfolkloreera. Very moody and introspective. Like me.”

“Moody and introspective, huh?” Snorting, I tilt my head, pretending to consider it, tapping my chin. “I guess I can see that.”

He smirks, his grip tightening just slightly, drawing me a fraction closer. “Youguess?”

The space between us suddenly feels very small. And the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the room that matters—makes my pulse skip.

I swallow, my voice coming out softer than I intend. “I suppose I’ll have to pay closer attention.”

His thumb brushes lightly over my waist, and my breath catches.

Somewhere in the distance, Valkyrie clatters her stolen whisk against the floor. But neither of us moves.

And for once, I don’t want to break the moment.

We sway in silence for a moment, the soft rhythm of the music filling the space between us. His hand tightens slightly on my waist, pulling me a fraction closer.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice dipping lower, “this might be my favorite part of the night.”

I glance up at him, my breath catching at the way his gaze lingers on me. “The dancing?”

He nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “The dancing. The wine. More importantly, you.”

Before I can reply, he dips his head slightly, his forehead brushing mine. My heart pounds as I feel his breath on my skin, warm and inviting.

“You’re not terrible at this, you know,” I whisper, my voice shaky but light.

“High praise,” he murmurs back, lips quirking. “Coming from the girl who added Taylor Swift to her playlist for me. That’s a big step.”

I laugh softly, and at that moment, his lips find mine. The kiss is gentle at first, tentative like we’re testing the waters. But the moment stretches and deepens. His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me against him, and I melt, my fingers curling into his shirt as heat pools low in my stomach.

I melt into him, my hands sliding up to rest on his chest as the music plays on, forgotten. Everything else—the sound of Valkyrie’s claws occasionally clinking against the floor, the music, the cooling wine glasses on the counter—fades away.

Gripping my hips, he puts me on the counter as he deepens the kiss stepping between my thighs.

Then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The sharp sound of the oven timer pierces the moment, yanking us back to reality.

We both freeze, our breaths mingling, eyes locked. Theo groans softly, dropping his forehead to mine.

“The cookies. Of course.”

I laugh, breathless and giddy. “You better save them before they burn. I’m not starting over.”

Reluctantly, he steps back, running a hand through his hair as he turns toward the oven. I watch him go, my heart still racing and my lips tingling from the kiss.

Valkyrie, clearly unbothered, trots up and drops her stolen whisk at my feet like an offering.

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