Page 52 of An American in London

His words hang in the air and then dissolve on my skin. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a beautiful compliment.

He doesn’t move and neither do I. I’m unsure how to respond. “You do?” It’s a ridiculous response to the sweetest words, but he has emptied my brain and set my heart waltzing around my chest.

“I do.”

Still, neither of us moves. I scramble for something to say. He’s just told me what he thinks about me. Surely, I should do the same in return. “I think you’re ... wonderful.”

Trulywonderful.

More thanwonderful.

Completelywonderful.

He blows out a breath and slides his hand into mine. My pulse is racing, impatient, like a horse before the gate opens. Sitting here with him, hand in hand, feels so right. Like he’s someone I’ve known for years, not days; like here is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Like I’m with the person I’m meant to be with.

He stands and pulls me up to face him. He pushes the hair from my eyes and cups my face. I’m so weak with anticipation, with these feelings of desire and need, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stay upright.

“I can’t stop touching you.” The timbre of his voice has taken on a gravelly edge that sends a shiver from the top of my head down my spine. But I’m not nervous. I’m wanting.

He presses his lips against mine. All I can think is,Finally, finally, finally.

It would have been so easy to have missed this moment. I might not have spotted him that day in the park. He might not have been standing behind me in the coffee shop. I might not have accepted Nick’s dinner invitation. Hell, I could have not left New York. I could still be with Jed. The images of what might have been flicker in my brain like the surface of a pond being disturbed by a gentle breeze—there, then gone—and all I can think about, all I can feel, is Ben.

I slide my fingers up Ben’s arms, and he deepens the kiss. My skin heats everywhere he touches: my face, my lips, my stomach pressed against his hips as he snakes a hand around my back. I’m hot and so weak, as if his desire has stolen my resolve. His tongue presses against mine, and I can’t help but let out a small moan of relief that I finally get more from him. My nipples pinch against my tank, and I don’t know if he feels them, but he groans. The vibration bounces around in my chest. Did I just make Bengroan?

His palm at my back pushes us closer together, but it’s not close enough. It’s like the pan of hot water is about to break into a boil, it just needs a few. More. Seconds.

His hand rounds my ass, and I’m about to wrap my legs around his waist when a knock at the door interrupts us. We jump apart like we’re teenagers on the verge of being discovered by parents.

He shoots me a look I can’t quite read and stalks over to the door. It’s just the housekeeper with two hot water bottles.

“Not sure we need those,” he mutters and discards them on the bed.

I stand rooted to the spot, vibrating with need for him, willing him to come back to me, hold me, kiss me. I want to feel him everywhere.

Instead he collapses on the sofa, grabbing my hand as he goes down and bringing me with him so we’re back to sitting where we werebefore our kiss. Except this time we’re hip to hip, and the heat is almost overwhelming.

He doesn’t let go of my hand, and instead begins to circle his thumb over my palm. I try to focus on breathing. I’m not used to navigating a man other than Jed. I feel like a teenager. The last time Jed and I kissed with tongue, without being naked and one of us trying to get to orgasm—because it never happened at the same time—we were probably still in college.

I don’t know where I want this to go next. I really like this guy. But my life is at such a crossroads right now, do I need to complicate it any further?

“You’re overthinking,” he says.

“Always,” I reply.

He huffs out a laugh, and I smile because I know how hard it is to amuse him. “Same here. There are lots of moving parts. For both of us. If logic were to prevail, we wouldn’t ...”

“Right,” I say, agreeing with him, although logic isn’t prevailing anywhere in my body right now. “You don’t date.”

“And I need to stay focused,” he adds.

“I’m fresh out of a ten-year relationship.”

“I’m paying you to be here,” he says. “I assured you ... nothing physical was part of the bargain.”

“I know that, Ben. I don’t feel pressured to accept your kisses.”

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