Facetipped downward, he pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from me. “CanI tell you something without you thinking I’m a pussy?”
“Dev,you once told me that you watchThe Notebookwhen you need a good cry.”
Heturned around with a tension-relieving laugh. “You got me there,” he said, andsat back down. He clasped his hands behind his head, threading his fingersthrough his hair. “It’s just that, I’ve been dreaming about this moment for athird of my life, and I’m really fucking nervous.”
“Soam I,” I admitted. “It’s okay.”
Mywhole body was trembling, I realized. So was his. Sitting there, I saw theextent of his own anxiety and the depth of his feelings. How similar they wereto my own.
Withshaking fingers, I reached out, touching the far side of his face, and gentlyturned his head to look at me. His stubble was rough beneath my fingertips, andI smiled with trembling lips, thinking of all the times I’d been annoyed at himfor not cleaning out the sink after he had trimmed. I pressed my other handagainst his face, and I held him as I moved closer, kneeling next to him onthat couch, in the apartment where we had made a home …together.
Myeyes homed in on his mouth, his parted lips and I felt his breath on my face.
“Whowas your first kiss?” I asked him, whispering and scared.
“Ididn’t know her name,” he admitted, his cheeks pinking a little in the darkenedliving room, lit only by the light over the dinner table. “It was at a party injunior high. I got dared to kiss her, so I did.”
“So,it meant nothing?” I searched his eyes, and he shook his head.
“Ican’t say I’ve ever kissed someone and had it mean something,” he repliedhonestly. “Who was yours?”
“LoganRoberts,” I said, allowing myself a small smile at the old memory. “He was theneighbor of one my cousins. I had a huge crush on him, and when I was sixteen,on the fourth of July, he kissed me.”
“Underthe fireworks?”
Myface was on fire with the heat of my blush. I laughed, rolling my eyes to theceiling. “Yes, under the fireworks.”
“Howromantic,” he teased, bringing his hands up to cup my face. “I think I mighthave to track thisLogan Robertsdown and kick his ass, if he can stillmake you blush like that.”
“Shutup,” I said, laughing, “and don’t worry. Logan is now fat, married, and hasthree kids.”
Devinchuckled. “Veryhappy to hear it.”
Forone second, my eyes lifted to Devin’s, finding within them a certainty thateverything would be fine and that this wasn’t a mistake, and I felt the pull.His hands, gently luring me toward him, to tip forward against his solid body,and I anxiously awaited the pressure of his mouth on mine.
“Shit,”he muttered, his lips whispering against my skin.
Sofucking close.
“What?”I asked, breathless and ready.
“Thecat. The meatloaf.” He shoved me away and clambered off the couch.
“Wow,Dev. Way to kill the fucking mood.” I pouted as he hurried to the table,grabbing plates and balancing them on his arms.
“Sorry,sorry …” he grumbled, moving into the kitchen. “You know he can’t eat onionsthough, and if we … you know … get a little distracted, we won’t even know he’son the table, and that’s one issue Idon’twant to deal with,” he calledout, as I listened to cabinet doors opening and Tupperware lids being priedoff.
“Uh-huh,”I said with a sigh.
“Shit,”I heard him mutter. “Seriously, we hardly ate. Are you hungry? Should we—”
“Devin!My fucking God,” I groaned, flopping back exasperated against the cushions. Becausethere was only one thing I was hungry for, and it certainly wasn’t meatloaf.
Heemerged from the kitchen. “Relax, I’m kidding,” he said, and then …
Hecame for me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
