Page 47 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
Our faces are so close I feel the words on my skin.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Or I do, but I’m not ready to admit it out loud.
Because it’s wrong?—
But nothing this wrong has ever felt so right.
“Bri works at Molly’s bakery,” I say going for distraction.
It works.
“Really?” Another puff of air on my lips and the spark of excitement in Faye’s eyes has me shifting even closer. “I love Molly’s! I swear, their seasonal peaches and cream muffins are so delicious they should be illegal. Then they top them with that?—”
“—streusel,” I finish, having devoured a peach muffin—or several dozen—myself.
“I really love that streusel.” She smiles. “I wish they sold it by itself. I’ve tried to replicate it dozens of times but I can never quite figure out the correct combination of spices.”
“Maybe Bri would teach you.”
Faye’s eyes widen. “You think she might?”
“I think I can ask,” I tell her. “And that Bri would really love to teach you. She’s…well, she’s spent too much time alone too.”
A wave of emotion across Faye’s face, warming her brown eyes, flushing her cheeks, plumping those pink lips.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
Sixteen
Faye
The raspy words have my mouth falling open.
Which he takes full advantage of, dropping his head and closing the final couple of inches between us.
His lips hit mine and…he kisses me.
He. Kisses. Me.
It’s gentle but not hesitant, something that has my pulse skittering and my knees threatening to buckle…and then actually buckling when gentle disappears with his rough groan and he deepens the kiss, plunging his hand into my hair, tilting my head back, his other arm banding around me, keeping me on my feet.
At the same time, he moves into me, pinning me back against the kitchen island.
He tastes of chocolate and salted caramel, sweet and salty and male and?—
Mine.
God, I’d love for this man to be mine.
He’s mine right now.
Mine in this moment.
Mine for as long as his arms are around me and his tongue is in my mouth and?—
