“What are you doing?” she gasped.
My lips twitched as I stepped between her legs and wrapped my arms around her. Even sitting on a barstool the way she was, her head came up to my shoulder, and I decided kissing the top of it was a safe enough thing to do.
Soft curls smelling faintly like coconut met my lips. I inhaled deeper, unwilling to move away just yet. Her breathing grew rapid, but after a few rather quick heartbeats, her hands came resting around my back, too. Damn, that felt satisfying.
“I don’t think your judgment is lacking, Red Cheeks,” I murmured into her hair. “But if it makes you feel any better, you can have your mother do a background check on me. I have nothing to hide.”
“I don’t want her anywhere near you, Luke.” Haylee was definitely breathless.
I squeezed her tighter to me. “Youcan do a background check on me then. Ask me anything you want to know.”
She buried her face on my shoulder, her breath warming up more than just the spot it touched. “Why do you smell so good?”
I chucked, taken aback by her question. “Do you want the scientific or simplified answer?”
She shifted, and I was pretty sure she was shrugging.
“I think we can blame the pheromones for that.” I dropped my face to her neck and made a show of inhaling her scent. The coconut was less obvious there, instead a sweeter fragrance greeted me, and I sniffed a few more times. “Yup, most definitely the pheromones.”
Haylee giggled, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. I really did love the sound of it. Just hearing it brightened my day. My heart soared because that laughter was for me, ignited by me, and that brought a grin to my face. God, she made me happy. Just having her in my arms and laughing. She felt so right I almost blurted out I was falling for her. Outright speeding down, heart first.
Tempted by the tender skin of her neck now so close to my lips, I gave it a small peck, halting Haylee’s laughter in a gasp.
I took a deep breath, but all I could smell was her. I needed to put some distance between us before I crossed a line. I had no idea where that line stood exactly, but I did know that there was one. I pulled away just enough to still keep my arms around her, and she raised her chin to look up at me.
“So you like me but don’t want to pull me into your drama, and I like you enough to thread through any drama you throw at me,” I concluded. “Can we compromise?”
“What would that look like?”
“You let me decide if the drama is too much.”
“And what do I get?”
“Anything you want, Red Cheeks,” I murmured. “Anything at all.”
She gaped at me, her lips enticingly parted. “You want my drama so badly you’re offering anything?”
“I want you.” I smoothed her wild locks, unable to keep my hands still. They wanted to explore every part of her, but I restrained them to this safe motion. “And everything that comes with it.”
Haylee’s eyes widened before she shook her head and clenched her jaw. “You are not real. Men our age don’t want drama; they steer away from any kind of commitment. They’re just playing the field. Toying with girls before they throw away whatever’s left, and the circle begins again.”
Her ghosts were at the forefront of her mind, but she circled around, admitting what she was really afraid of. I knew, of course. I’d seen the toying she mentioned recorded, but I couldn’t comment on it without admitting I’d been snooping around in places I shouldn’t. That wouldn’t go down well, especially since our relationship was fragile to begin with. I hated lying to her.
“I would hope men my age have learned their lesson and are tired of stupid games that lead nowhere. I am not playing with you, Red Cheeks.” I wrapped one of her hands that had fallen from around me to her sides in mine and guided it to my heart. It beat frantically in my chest, trying to reach hers. “I’m also not afraid of commitment.” Long distance or otherwise.Shit.
She blinked. With brows furrowed and pouty lips squeezed tight, she studied me. Her hand was trapped between mine and my chest, and she didn’t move to amend that. At least she wasn’t pulling away. It meant something, right?
“Men your age,” she whispered at last. “I suppose we never talked about age.”
My stomach hollowed out at that.
What if— No, don’t assume.She moved out from under her parents. She was no longer studying. She was giving dance lessons for God’s sake; she was not underage. But her mother’s protectiveness would make sense. Fuck, I was stupid.
We stared at each other for a terrifying heartbeat that seemed to last forever.
“Ask,” I rasped, my throat clenching.
Her soft lips parted, and a warm herbal puff of air drifted out, but she didn’t say a thing.
