Page 60 of What We Break
"Reid, I'm getting your shirt wet?—"
"I don't care." His voice is rough in a way that makes my heart stutter. "This shirt has seen worse. I once got an entire slushiedumped on me by a girl who thought I was hitting on her boyfriend."
I laugh, startled. "What?"
"Long story. Another festival. Drugs were involved. Not mine." He's smiling, but his eyes are serious, focused entirely on me. "Point is, a little dishwater is nothing."
His thumbs brush back and forth along the waistband of my jeans. Just the tiniest motion, but it sends ripples through my whole body.
"This is the best date I've ever been on," he says quietly. "Since our last date, anyway."
I laugh, but it comes out breathless. "We're doing dishes."
"Doesn't matter." His hands slide up my back. "Any time I spend with you is incredible. I want more of it. All of it."
"Reid..."
He leans down, and I meet him halfway. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like we're both testing. Then his hands press flat against my back and I melt into him, my fingers fisting in his shirt. He tastes like the wine we shared with dinner, warm and rich, and when he deepens the kiss I make this embarrassing little sound that I absolutely cannot take back.
Well. That happened. Everyone heard that. The neighbors heard that. Blake definitely heard that from down the hall.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Reid rests his forehead against mine, his hands still framing my face.
"Jesus," he breathes. "I've been wanting to do that all night."
My heart is hammering. My lips feel swollen. I want to cling to him like a spider monkey, which is not a thought I'm going to share out loud. "Me too."
I can't remember the last time a kiss made me feel like this — like I might actually dissolve right here in his kitchen. Like the floor is optional.
"So," Reid says, and there's a hint of nervousness under his usual confidence. "I really like you, Laine."
"I really like you too."
"Yeah?" His smile is so bright it could light up the whole kitchen.
"Yeah."
He kisses me again, softer this time, like he's savoring it. When he pulls back, he's still grinning.
"Good. Because I was thinking maybe we could do this again sometime. The cooking thing. Or the kissing thing. Preferably both."
I laugh. He just comes out says says exactly what he's thinking. It makes it so easy to be honest back. "I'd like that."
"Tomorrow?"
"Eager much?"
"Extremely." He doesn't even try to hide it. "Is that weird? That's probably weird. I don't care. When can I see you again?"
I don't want to play it cool. "I'm off Wednesday."
"Wednesday. Perfect. I'll plan something. Or you can plan something. Or we can plan nothing and just hang out. Whatever you want."
"Maybe just hang out?"
"Hanging out it is." He's practically bouncing again, all that golden retriever energy back in full force. "Best date ever. Officially."
"We did dishes."
