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Nick had never looked more comfortable as he leaned against the counter in his T-shirt and blue jeans. He was relaxed, thoroughly content, and the butterflies were back in her stomach when she realized she had something to do with the light in his eyes. He had hardly been able to take two steps in the rehearsal room, and now he was looking at her like he wasn’t afraid of anything.
“Can we keep dancing?” she murmured.
Nick reached for the remote control on the counter, and then David Bowie was replaced by a much slower song: “Truly Madly Deeply.”
She laughed softly. “You set this up.”
His smile turned bashful. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Hayley slipped into his arms as easily as she had a week ago. She leaned into him, held him tight, hoped the closeness would speak for her when she couldn’t find the words she needed.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “In the rehearsal room, I didn’t … Kevin hadn’t told me we were leaving.” Her lips brushed his cheek. “You thought I was saying goodbye.”
His breath quickened. “What did you mean to say?”
She couldn’t reply because her mouth had found his.
Hayley felt Nick shudder as he breathed her in, and then the current that passed through them made all of her ignite at once. Some part of her was screaming that she was making the worst possible choice—but this didn’t feel like a choice. This kiss was the natural progression of their dance, the consequence of their rhythm and their magic and all of the choices that had preceded it. The sensation was almost too much; she was falling from a great height, hurtling into deep water. She needed it to stop, knew it would overwhelm her, and ached for it to continue.
“Thank you,” Hayley managed as she pulled away. “I meant to say thank you.”
Nick gave a breathless chuckle. “Am I allowed to say you’re welcome?”
“No.” She was proud of how sure she sounded, shaking her head with a palm against his chest as she stepped away, but then she pulled him back to her so quickly she stretched the collar of his T-shirt. Nick lurched forward with the momentum, and he managed to grab the edge of the sink behind her as he fell forward and pinned her against the counter.
“God, sorry!” she managed in between kisses. “You okay?”
“Of course not,” he said against her mouth. “I’mappalled.”
She laughed. “We should stop.”
“Absolutely.” His tongue teased hers. “I’m more than just a piece of meat.”
“Seriously,” she gasped. “It’s not fair to you.”
“I know!” He nipped at her ear. “I feel so used.”
“That’s not …” Nick’s lips were making their way from her neck to her throat now, and her eyes closed involuntarily. “I meant what I … I’m still not … oh my God …”
Nick slowed, then stopped; she felt a hint of stubble brush against her collarbone as he caught his breath.
“You’re not with him,” he said finally. “But you’re not with me yet.”
“I want to be sure,” she said. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Apart from yanking me around my own kitchen, you mean.”
“I’m such a bitch.”
“No, no.” He shook his head, straightened up. “You don’t want me getting my hopes up.”
“Don’t be mad,” she pleaded. “Please?”
He smiled. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not.” She looked at him skeptically. “Because I’d be mad.”
“How could I be mad about you kissing me?”
