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“I do.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
Gathering all the bravado I had, I reached up to touch the center of his bottom lip. His eyes went dark with need. I moved to the slight cleft in his chin, wondering if the tiny prickles I felt came from his stubble or the ever-present electricity between us.
I got my answer when the lightbulb blew in his desk lamp.
“We do have one problem,” he said, his voice deep, almost sleepy. “I still work for your brother.”
“Just one problem?” I traced the line of his lower lip. I wanted to put my mouth there.
“At least. I’d hate to betray his trust. Wouldn’t you?”
I pressed my palms against his chest, trying to still them, and wondered if my hands felt like charged up defibrillator paddles to him. “No.”
For one second Michael hesitated. One crucial second when everything hung in the balance. Then he bent down, and my hands fisted in his T-shirt. He brushed his lips across mine.
Once.
I inhaled sharply.
Twice.
Nothing from me. Except maybe a whimper.
Three times.
“Michael?” His name came out in a whisper. I could tell by his breathing that his control was slipping. I stood on my tiptoes and reached up to tangle my hands in his hair. “You are so fired.”
All the electrical tension that had been building between us exploded into heat the second his touch became more than whisper light. He took my face into his hands, using them to control the intensity and depth of our kiss, which quickly moved from sweet to reckless. It was the most lovely of assaults.
One second he was kissing me as if I was as essential to him as oxygen, and the next it was over. He stepped away, looking haunted.
“Did I do something wrong?” I touched my mouth, missing the heat of him.
“No.” He shook his head and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.
I didn’t want his hands in his pockets. I wanted them on me. “Why did you—”
“Not because I wanted to stop kissing you.” He looked at my lips. My pulse sped up, but my blood felt like lava moving through my veins. “Timing. My timing sucks.”
Circumstances. Not because of me. I couldn’t keep myself from grinning. “Would you like to try this again then, another time?”
“I’d very much like to try this again, another time.” He grinned, but it carried a touch of sadness. “I’ll give you a second to … uh … fix your hair.”
“My hair?”
“I’ll give you a second to fix my hair. I mean, I’ll give you a second while I go fix my hair.” He let out a sigh. “I mean, I’ll see you downstairs.”
He turned to walk out of the room, but unfortunately, he forgot to open the door first.
I managed to hold my laughter until he got it right.
I followed the smell of buttered popcorn to the kitchen. Peeking my head around the corner, I found everyone in various stages of preparation: Cat still making check marks; Dune clicking a mouse repeatedly; and Kaleb, watching it all, his face drawn. A flurry of popping sounds echoed off the walls as Nate leaned over the counter, eyeing the microwave like it was his job.
Maybe it was.
“I need a ring.”
