Page 62 of One Little Kiss
He turns to face me. “We need to talk, Noelle.”
I shake my head, that panic from earlier back in full force. “I don’t want to.”
His gaze holds a world of sympathy and hurt. The mix of the two is more than I can take so I look away. But the only thing to see out the window is the car next to his, and the longer I’m quiet, the guiltier I feel.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” I say. “It was a mistake.”
I glance over but I can’t quite meet his eyes, so instead I find myself watching his fingers clench and unclench on the steering wheel.
Dammit. Why does he have to have sexy guy hands?
I’ve always known he has sexy guy hands, but now I know how they feel, holding me close and cradling my cheek and…
“Crap,” I mutter.
“Yeah. That about sums it up.”
His wry tone forces out a huff of amusement against my will.
“Look, maybe I should apologize,” he starts.
I stiffen. Is that what I want? I don’t know.
I don’t know anything right now.
“Maybe I should, but I’m not going to,” he finishes. He’s talking slowly, and I can tell he’s thinking this through as he goes. If I were to look up and meet his gaze, I know exactly what I’d see. I know the thoughtful little crease I’d find between his brows and the way his lips purse a little between words.
I know this tone, just like I know this guy.
And the fact that I know what he tastes like, and how it feels to be crushed against him, is more than I can take.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I say. “But it can’t happen again.”
He’s quiet for way too long. And finally curiosity outweighs this newfound cowardice, and I lift my gaze to meet his.
It’s a mistake. His eyes are dark, and filled with so much emotion it steals the air from my lungs.
“I don’t know that I can agree to that, Noelle.” His voice is so low I can feel the rumble of it in my belly.
My voice shakes. “What are you doing, Elijah?”
He reaches out and I shut my eyes so he can’t see what I’m feeling when his hand rests against my cheek again. The heat of it burning my skin makes my exhale come out in a rush.
“I know it’s scary,” he says.
My eyes fly open and this time I don’t even try to hide my panic.
His throat works as he takes it in. “Go out with me.”
“What?” I blink, my lips parting.
He wets his lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. I can see his quick mind racing as he speaks. “Go out with me. On a date—”
I open my mouth to protest.
“Just one night out together. One date.”
“What? Why?” I sound just as pathetic as I feel. I might not be outright pleading, but I am damn close.
