Page 64 of Love is an Open Book
“Did you cook for me?”
“I assembled some food.” I glance down at the mishmash. “Does that count?”
“You’re talking to the woman who once ate nothing but frozen dinners and raisins for a week while on deadline.”
I make a face, coming to sit on the couch cushion next to her. “You never told me about the raisins.”
“Some things are too shameful to share.” She plucks a raspberry off the plate, the fruit dainty in her fingers. I allow my eyes to linger on her as she savors the tart berry.
“You’re never embarrassing.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Even when I’m eating handfuls of raisins at two a.m. in the glow of my laptop screen like a gremlin?”
I laugh at the image. “Okay, maybe then.”
She digs her toes into my hip. “Meanie.”
I press a kiss onto her knee, without thinking. Her skin is smooth and cool under my lips, and I raise my eyes to hers, half afraid I’ve overstepped, consumed with thoughts of where I want to kiss her next. Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t pull away. I do, but not far, my lips a whisper away from the rounded curve of her knee. My fingers skate up her calf, and her eyes drop, watching me touch her. The glow from her laptop shows her lips plump and parted, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
So beautiful. I’ve always known Mia was gorgeous, but I never allowed myself to dwell on her allure, to let my gaze roam, drinking in her sexiness.
“Gavin,” she says, and I stop. Let go, but when I meet her eyes, she’s smiling. “Did you come in here to feed me or seduce me?”
“Is there a difference?”
She laughs. Setting her laptop aside, she scoots down to sit in the crevasse of the couch, all curled up, and brings the plate of food to her bent knees. She bites into a potato chip, then catches me looking. “What?” A small shower of crumbs falls from her lips, and I grin.
“Just thinking how lucky I am to come home to you.” It’s bliss to have her tucked against me in the twilight.
She stops chewing. Swallows. “It’s not weird to have me here?”
“Does it seem weird?” I hope desperately that the answer is no.
She licks a crumb from her lips, watching me with her dark eyes. “It seems perfect.”
Happiness pulses through me at her declaration. Honest and open, just like the friend I’ve come to love. The lover I didn’t dare hope for. Channeling my willpower not to pull her into my arms, plate of food be damned, I ask, “Are you finished eating?”
She tugs the dish closer to her, protective. “Why?”
“Because I’d really like to kiss you again.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“Because food is always your top priority.”
“Only because kissing you has never been an option.” Before I can register the implications of her confession, she swipes her thumb at the corner of her mouth, catching a crumb and licking it off with a quick swipe of her tongue.
Rising, she sets the plate on the side table and moves over me, one knee on either side of my thighs, caging me in. The corners of her mouth lift in a coy smile. “Kissing youisan option, right?”
She’s teasing me now, hovering over my lap, hands on my shoulders, her face inches from mine. We’ve joked around for years, but this kind of teasing is new.
“Kissing is one option, yeah.” My voice is a rasp.
Her lips lift, curving in the moonlight. She’s enjoying this as much as I am, the years of banter slipping to something deeper, edgier. Then she kisses me, and the tether holding back myemotions snaps with sweet relief. It’s only been mere hours since we kissed, but already I’m starved for her. Mouths parted, both greedy, we give ourselves up to each other, to this very new and welcome twist in our relationship.
Kissing Mia is all the joy of spending time with her, heightened. Pleasure magnified. It’s dizzying, the way her tongue swoops against mine.
“Gavin,” she breathes. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
