Instantly, he freezes and his eyes find hers, wide and a little bit vulnerable.
He pulls in a deep breath, studying her carefully. Her hair is a wild mess, her mouth wet, her bottom lip swollen and her chest rising and falling with every heavy breath she takes.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice matching hers, soft and low.
“Yeah, I just . . . I think maybe we’re . . . we’re good.”
“What?”
“The kissing. We’re good, I don’t think we have to worry.”
“Right,” he agrees with a swift nod. He tries to step back, but her legs are still wrapped around him, their lower bodies pressed together. Quickly she releases him, and he tries not to think too hard about the way those shorts had ridden up and how all he wants is to run his hands up the smooth skin of her thighs and maybe around to her ass . . . and from there, who knows what that might have led to . . .
. . . which is exactly why it’s a good thing it didn’t happen.
Xavier steps back and runs a shaky hand through his hair, knowing he’s just making it even more of a wreck.
“Sorry if I . . .”
“No, I mean . . . don’t apologize, it was . . . it was good.”
A small grin quirks up at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, it was. See? I was right.”
She smiles back, the tension broken, somehow. “Are you going to include your case study in your presentation?”
He lets out a laugh. “You know what, it might liven things up a bit.”
“Are you saying our field of study is dry?”
“I’m saying that I don’t think anyone on my panel has ever had a kiss that hot and they should be made aware of what they’re missing.”
She rolls her eyes at him and his smile grows, like it always does whenever she’s exasperated with him.
“I’m, uh, gonna grab a shower,” she says.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Um, when you’re done, would you mind . . .”
She cuts him off with a smile. “Listening to your presentation again and asking pertinent questions at the end? Of course I will.”
When she leaves for the bathroom, his body thrums for hers, protesting her sudden departure, and he has to fight the urge to spin around and dive back into her or to ask to join her, undressing her as they stumble together, leaving their clothes in a trail leading to the bathroom and . . .
. . . what?
Fuck her up against the shower wall?
Yeah, that’s a great plan, because then what?
Then whatever semblance of control he has over his feelings will be gone and he’s not sure his heart could take the rejection that would be sure to follow.
And there it is.
The line.
He found it and it turns out it’s his line, not hers.
He’s not sure how he manages it, but with the sound of her shower echoing in his ears and the heat of her mouth still warming his, he falls back onto the couch and attempts to shift his mind back to his presentation semi-successfully.
At least he’s able to get back to thespelling not embarrassing and grammar goodlevel of work he’d been doing before she got back home. Amelia’s in his lap again, head at the edge of his computer like she’s waiting for his fingers to leave the keyboard so she can pounce.
