Page 47 of How Sweet It Is

Her cheeks flush pink again, but she doesn’t break eye contact with me. “Totally platonic, huh?”

“Absolutely. Just some friendly type kissing.”

“Have you ever offered this service to any other women? Or am I special?”

I take her braid and slide off the hair tie. “I can honestly tell you this is a special offer, just for you.”

I unravel her hair from the braid as she thinks about my offer.

“Well, I know your baking skills are top tier. Your spreadsheet skills, though, are lacking.”

“Hey,” I say as I comb through her hair, letting it spill over her shoulders, “I got you all the receipts you wanted.”

“Those crumpled-up ones don’t count. You got me those just because you hadn’t washed those jeans yet,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as I play with her hair.

“Okay, I admit, saving receipts isn’t in my nature. But I promise to deliver mind-blowing service on the kiss.”

Her eyes snap open. She searches my gaze. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

I lean close to her, my lips almost touching hers. It’s torture being so close yet not touching her, but I need her permission. “I promise,” I whisper.

Amelia hesitates for a split second before saying, “Prove it.”

I close my eyes and thread my fingers through her hair, brushing my lips across hers. The second our lips touch, every careless kiss I’ve had disappears like meaningless smoke. Those moments never touched anything real. Not like this one.

My lips move slowly across hers, sliding in time to a song only we can hear. She joins me in the dance, our mouths moving in a careful rhythm. Tentative, curious, like the first steps of a waltz.

But then something shifts. The tempo picks up, subtle at first, as her fingers slide up my chest, and I pull her closer. Our kiss deepens, turning from soft steps into a spinning whirl. It’s no longer a practiced pattern. It’s instinct, emotion, heat. We lose the count. We forget the rules.

Her breath hitches, and I chase it, matching her pace, then leading, then letting her take control. It’s a tango now. Bold, consuming, a push and pull of hunger and restraint.

I didn’t plan to fall for Amelia. I didn’t even like her at first. She was just the accountant with too many rules and not enough patience for my charm. But here she is, pulling me under with one kiss and undoing all the carefully built walls I didn’t even realize I’d put up.

Amelia’s hands grip my shirt, and she pulls me closer, and something inside me cracks wide open. I thought I knew what kissing felt like. Fun, easy, forgettable. But I was so wrong. Thiskiss isn’t light. It’s not surface-level. It’s deep and disarming, like she’s reaching places no one else has dared to touch.

Every woman before her feels like a mistake now. Like I’d been chasing the wrong things just to prove I could. I never knew how hollow it all was until now. Until her. Until this.

My heart’s pounding like it’s trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear. But it’s too late. I already know.

This isn’t just a kiss. She means something more to me. She’s the shift I didn’t see coming. And I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. She curls her fingers into my hair, and it drives me insane. I deepen the kiss. I need more. I need her.

I pull back, barely. Just enough to breathe her in. Just enough to realize I’ll never kiss another girl the same way again. She looks up at me like she’s waiting for me to crack a joke, but I can’t. Not when my chest feels like it’s split wide open.

If this is what “just friends” feels like, I won’t survive the real thing.

CHAPTER 23

CLAIRE MATTHEWS — SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12

Istare up at Levi, all sense gone from my brain. What was I thinking? Levi’s a super-flirt, and I should have left it at that. Why did I want to egg him on? Why did I allow a kiss that has now turned my world upside down? My lips are tingling, and my heart is racing, and I can’t think clearly. That wasn’t just a kiss. That was pure electricity coursing through me, capturing me and telling me something I don’t want to hear.

Levi’s looking at me like he’s about to say something very serious… and I can’t let him. I’m here for only a short time. This is not my home, and I’m not Amelia Bishop. I need to take this back three steps. Or fifty.

I force a shrug, my voice lighter than I feel. “Well, if that’s the best you can do, you might want to work more on your receipt-hoarding skills.”

Levi steps back from me as if I’ve slapped him. “What?”

My heart pounds as I grab the moment to skitter out from under his arm, every nerve firing. “I mean, it was a solid effort. But really, if you think that was mind-blowing, you might wantto rethink your whole strategy. You know, maybe add jazz hands or a confetti cannon.”

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