Page 48 of The Overtime Kiss

He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to regain control. “I should?—”

“Get the sausage?” I suggest, and…oh, does that sound dirty.

“It’s veggie sausage,” he adds quickly. “For…Luna.”

“Sounds good,” I say, my voice a little too breathy.

“I can make you some.”

That sounds good, too, so I nod. “Yes.” I point toward the door, which he’s still blocking. “I need to…shower.”

He shuffles aside, awkwardly, which is unexpected from a man who moves his body for a living. He winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

“You didn’t really walk in on me. I’m the one standing here in a towel,” I say with a laugh, though my pulse is pounding. “I guess I should probably put clothes on next time.”

“It was my fault,” he says, though he still hasn’t moved completely out of the way.

“I’ll make sure I’m dressed next time,” I add, but my breath is coming faster now. And his eyes…his eyes look like those of a man who wants to devour.

A devourer.

Is that a thing?

Itshouldbe a thing.

“I’m just going to…go,” I say, backing toward the door.

“Be sure to come upstairs,” he calls after me.

I glance at him, up and down, before stepping inside. “Yes. For sausage.”

I scurry back inside, clutching the towel tightly. As I reach my apartment, it hits me once more—this is not my towel.

Stopping in my tracks, I spin around and grab the door before it shuts.

“Tyler?” I call out, even though I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be this close to him when I’m nearly naked. But my heart is racing, and my skin feels warmer. I feelalivein my body when I’m near him, and even though I know I should resist, I can’t seem to stop myself.

He turns, his hand still holding the freezer door open, but he angles the lower half of his body away from me. “Yes?”

“Is this…towel yours?”

The question feels incomplete, and I hesitate. I’m almost afraid to ask what I really want to know:Did you get this towel for me?

It’s a presumptuous question—too presumptuous to make landfall, so I keep it locked up.

But then he straightens up, letting the freezer door close, and turns fully toward me.

“No,” he says, pausing for a moment before adding, “I got a few for you. I wanted it to feel like your home. Is the color okay?”

His words knock the air out of me. I try to fight off the smile tugging at my lips, but it’s a losing battle.

It’s stupid to be this excited about a towel. Atowel.But it’s big, soft, and exactly what I needed.

“It’s perfect,” I say, and this time I actually leave, heading to the shower.

Once inside, I set the towel on the rack and turn on the water. Steam fills the space quickly, but as I step in, I can’t tell if the water is heating me up—or if it’s the other way around.

I finish the veggie sausage Tyler left for me, rinse the plate, and set it in the dishwasher just as the front door creaks open.

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