Page 28 of Izzy and Her Off-Limits Love

“Hm,” he says, shifting a little closer. “Hanging it could definitely be an issue. But I’m more concerned about the location. If it’s in the right place, I’ll find a way to hang it. Does this feel right to you, Izzy?”

Just like our conversation about the movie, we’re talking about two things at once. But I’m having trouble keeping up the verbal back and forth because Liam takes his free hand and slides it around my waist, his palm resting against my lower back. He inches me closer.

“You haven’t answered,” he murmurs, our faces close enough for me to feel his exhale across my cheek.

“What was the question?”

“Yes,” Liam says, “or no?”

“That’s not a real question,” I tell him, lifting my hands until they’re looped behind his neck. “Because there’s only one answer. Absolutely yes.”

I’ve barely finished the word when his mouth is on mine.

Liam—my childhood friend, my lifelong crush—is kissing me.

For a split second, I imagine the sound of Alisa’s laugh because she will absolutely laugh when I tell her about this, and the expression on Merritt’s face when she realizes what I’ve longed for is finally happening.

But then everything leaves my brain but Liam.

For being so precise in so many other aspects of his life, there is a wildness to this kiss that surprises me, making my breath catch in my throat.

But then, passion is never anything Liam has lacked. This has been there all along, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right time, the right person.

And that person isme.

It’s almost too much to process, so I focus on the here and now. The spicy scent of Liam’s skin. The softness of his lips. The dips and curves of his muscles as I slide my hands over his biceps and shoulders, then across the smooth planes of his chest. The little noise he makes when I tilt my head and deepen the kiss.

And then I let go completely. Surrender to the moment, to the magic not just of Liam, but ofLiam and Izzy.To the rightness of being together.

I’m not sure how long we’re wrapped up in each other, but the buzzing of my phone on the counter eventually yanks me back into my present reality. At some point, Liam must have lifted me onto the kitchen island because I’m sitting on it now, my hands tangled in his hair and his pressed against my back.

We’re both out of breath, and the mistletoe Liam was holding earlier has completely disappeared. Which I guess makes sense because we’ve been making out like it’s our last few moments on earth. Who can keep track of mistletoe?

“Wow,” I whisper.

Liam closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine. “Wow is … an understatement.”

The phone keeps buzzing, but I’m perfectly happy to ignore it. Until I catch the name moving across the screen.

It’s Mrs. Hartley. A tiny bolt of panic shoots through me as I reach for my phone.

“I need to take this. It’s my neighbor, and she’s elderly.”

“Of course. But I’m not going anywhere,” Liam says, and he doesn’t. Though he does shift so he can drag his lips along my neck.

I arch my head back to give him better access, answering the call with a breathy, “Hello?”

“Hello, dear. Sorry to bother you,” Mrs. Hartley says, just like she does every time she calls.

“You’re not bothering me,” I tell her, though this time, for once, she actually is. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, yes. I just wondered if you know what time the film crew is showing up. I’ve been sitting here all day, watching and listening. All for nothing!”

Liam must be close enough to hear what she’s said because he straightens, raising an eyebrow at me. I put the phone on speaker.

“What film crew?”

“The one making a movie in our building! Don’t you know?”

---