Page 68 of Falling for Love

I glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Friend-of-the-family?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a slow step toward me. “You know, the one where I’m good with kids, handy around the house, and charming enough to be tolerated.”

I snorted, trying to ignore how my heart raced as he closed the distance between us.

“Tolerated is a strong word.”

“Oh?” He took another step, and suddenly, the room felt smaller. “What word would you use, then?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

My brain short-circuited as I realized just how close he was now. Close enough that I could see the faint stubble on his jaw, close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar and something warm and familiar.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile fading into something intense, more serious.

“Evie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Am I reading this wrong?”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Reading what?”

He chuckled softly. “You.”

I froze, caught between the instinct to step back and the overwhelming desire to close the gap between us.

“What about me?”

“Everything about you, Evie. You’ve got this way of making me forget every reason I should take things slow.”

I felt my breath hitch, the air between us charged with something electric.

“And what are those reasons?”

His smile returned, a little lopsided and completely disarming. “Honestly? None of them hold up anymore.”

Before I could think, before I could overanalyze the situation, he leaned in. His hand gently brushed my cheek, and his lips fell to mine.

The kiss was soft at first, as if he were waiting for me to pull away.

But when I didn’t—when I leaned into him instead—it deepened.

The world around us faded until there was nothing but him. His hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me closer. My body buzzed with a desire I didn’t even know possible. There was heat and need running through every cell in me. The sweetness of his lips, the confidence in his kiss…his hands.

My fingers found their way to the front of his sweater, clutching the threads as if it could anchor me in this moment.

I let out a little moan as his tongue did a little twirl, and his kiss deepened.

When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“That,” he said softly, “was even better than I imagined.”

I laughed nervously, my cheeks flushing. “You’ve imagined this?”

“Only about a hundred times,” he admitted, his grin returning. “And now I’m kicking myself for not doing it sooner.”

I shook my head, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his hand lingering at my waist. “Still putting up with me.”

I loved how we had inside jokes, how he looked at me as if I mattered, as if…

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