Page 24 of Once Upon A Small Town Secret
He tilts his head toward my wall. “Looks good.”
I nod toward his. “Yours too. Straight enough that I won’t have to redo it, so…you passed.”
That pulls a smirk from him. “Guess I’ll take that as high praise.”
I busy myself gathering the roll of tape and the ruler, because if I hold his gaze any longer, I’ll start thinking about the heat in his eyes—or worse, about the way I nearly pressed myself into him earlier.
When I turn back, he’s already crossed the room, meeting me in the middle where our freshly taped walls meet at the corner. For a moment, we both glance at the seam, the perfect lines running from floor to ceiling.
“Good teamwork,” he says, his voice low.
“Yeah,” I manage, though it comes out softer than I intend.
Neither of us moves right away.
Then he glances up, and my breath catches.
It feels like he can see right through me, the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. I should look away, should turn toward the wall and pretend to double-check the seam, but I don’t. Can't. He doesn’t seem able to, either.
His throat works.
I should step back. I should put some distance between us, but my feet are rooted in place.
My body is on fire.
We stare at each other, the air heady and thick between us.
Slowly, he lifts his hand. My eyes dart to the movement, my lungs catching as his fingers graze the skin just below the curve of my cheek. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering, fingertips grazing the edge of my jaw.
The gesture is simple, innocent, but it feels like anything but.
Heat rushes through me, desire so intense that I sway.
He must feel it, must see the effect his touch has on me, because his lips part. His fingers slide lower, down the curve of my neck, until his thumb grazes the edge of my chin, tracing the shape of my lower lip.
I make a sound.
It feels involuntary, instinctual. A soft, desperate sound that comes from somewhere deep inside, and for a second, I can't believe it was me.
But it is.
Because that touch—
God, that touch.
He leans closer, his eyes darkening, pupils wide.
He wants me.
Just as badly as I want him.
I can feel it, the heat between us like a palpable thing. It wraps around us, pulls us together, and then his mouth is on mine.
His lips are hot and firm and hungry. My hands fist his shirt, drawing him closer, and his other arm slides around my waist, pulling me tight against him.
God, he feels good.
He smells good.
