Page 85 of Kiss Me Now
“But—”
“There’s more. I’m not saying it has to be that way. It’s only if you want to. I’ll respect you and take it as your final word if you don’t, but...” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands askew, and I wanted to reach up and brush the pieces back into place. “But I keep thinking about how every minute I’ve spent with you, even when we’re arguing or just eating sandwiches, makes me feel more alive than anything I’ve done in the city has in years. And I’m hoping...I’m hoping it’s not my imagination. That you feel it too?”
He was a supremely confident guy, so much so that I’d cussed him as cocky a few times, but there was only vulnerability in his eyes now.
I reached over and took his free hand, sliding mine into his so he wouldn’t have another second of doubt. “The idea of seeing you on my porch swing every Friday makes it a little hard to breathe, but I think it’s in a good way?”
He gave a small laugh. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that.”
“Maybe we need more science investigation. What does it mean when the idea of seeing you—no, that actually seeing you right here in this moment—makes my heart race, my mouth go dry, my palms sweat, and my stomach flip?”
He pretended to think about it. “It could mean that you’re having a panic attack. But there’s a pretty good test. Do you also have weak knees?”
“Not yet.”
“Then for science, I think you probably need to kiss me now.”
“For science,” I agreed as he pulled me toward him. When he kissed me, the whole world became the soft rasp of his breath and the sound of my own heartbeat. His lips were gentle at first, but as I leaned into him the kiss deepened. He pulled me tight against him, and I had a whole new host of symptoms to report. Wild, delicious, shivery symptoms.
He pulled back. “How are your knees?” he asked softly.
“Weak. Very weak. And my heart is pounding too.”
“So what does the science tell us?”
“More experiments needed.”
His eyebrow went up and his eyes danced. “I might know more about the science here than you do.”
“Tell me,” I said, running a finger across his bottom lip.
“It means you might be in danger of falling for me as hard as I’ve fallen for you.”
I stopped tracing his lip to meet his eyes. “You have?”
“Deeply. It’s kind of a problem.”
My stomach flipped again. “Not if I’ve fallen for you too.”
He rested his forehead against mine. “You have?”
“Deeply.” I rested my hands against his chest and reveled in how solid and warm he felt against my palms which itched with a new symptom: a need to explore him more.
He took a deep breath. “Just so we’re clear, I’m saying I love you, Brooke Spencer.”
“And just so I’m clear, Ian Greene, I’m saying I love you back. So what do we do now?” I asked.
“Kiss her again!” Miss Lily shouted, and we looked over to find her and Mary, standing on my side of the garden, holding on to each other and grinning like fools.
“When she’s right, she’s right,” Ian said. And then he kissed me again, and I discovered a new symptom: Ian’s kisses made me forget about everything but him.
