Page 335 of Wild Card 13

I pulled back just enough to look at her. “Burns?”

“You were getting smug.”

“I just asked you to move in with me.”

“And I said yes. Don’t ruin it by becoming pleased with yourself.”

“I am extremely pleased with myself.”

“I can tell.”

I kissed the corner of her mouth. “How?”

“You have a face.”

“I do have one of those.”

“It is currently very smug.”

“It is currently very in love with you.”

She smiled against me, and then the kiss changed. She moved closer, and I let my hands settle at her waist, then her back, then the warm bare skin where my borrowed shirt had ridden up. She made a small sound that went straight through me, and then she laughed because Dottie snored so loudly from the rug that the entire romantic atmosphere briefly took a hit.

I dropped my forehead to Lucy’s shoulder. “Our dog is ruining my moment.”

“She is enhancing it,” she corrected, breathless with laughter.

“She sounds like a chainsaw.”

“She feels safe.” Lucy’s fingers moved through my hair again, slower now.

I lifted my head. Her eyes were soft behind her glasses. Her cheeks were flushed from the fire, from kissing, from everything we had said and everything we had not needed to.

“She’s not the only one,” Lucy whispered.

I forgot how to breathe for a second.

Then I kissed her again. Lucy came into it with me, warm and sure, her knees pressing into the couch cushion beside my thigh. I took her glasses off carefully and set them on the table beside our wine. She smiled like she noticed. Like she loved that I knew to do it now. Like every small act of care was another plank beneath our feet.

Her hands found the hem of my shirt.

I caught her wrist lightly, smiling against her mouth. “Is this you moving in already?”

“This is me assessing the property.”

“Thorough inspection?”

“Very.”

“I should disclose defects.”

“You have many.”

“I meant the house.”

“Oh.” She kissed my jaw. “The house is fine.”

“Fine?”