Page 85 of No Match Found
I didn’t.
He leaned in slowly—so slowly, I started to think my lips might never know what his felt like. So gradually I wasn’t sure when the warmth of his breath turned into the warmth of his lips. It was slow, deliberate, like he was testing whether I was still with him.
I slid both hands up his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle under the fabric and the quick, steady beat of his heart. Was it possible a little corner of that heart could belong to me, no matter how small? Was there any chance in this big, wide universe that I could keep it?
His hands left my face, and I felt one arm wrap around my back, the other around my waist, where his hand curled, lifting the hem of my shirt. His fingertips grazed the skin beneath, and I sucked in a breath of surprise.
It was fast. Too fast.
His fingertips stayed there for a few seconds, then their warmth against my skin was suddenly gone. He tugged the shirt hem down gently and replaced his hand on top of the fabric.
It flooded me with a wave of relief and longing so fierce, my fingers clenched his shirt.
It was a gesture of respect. Restraint.
Grant was telling meI want you, but I won’t rush you. And that was more dangerous than anything yet.
It made me want him that much more, like his self-control had unraveled mine.
My pulse pounded in my ears, in my throat, my fingertips as I kissed him. My thoughts scattering everywhere and nowhere.
He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped me. Our kiss had opened the door to all the feelings I had been fighting since he’d arrived at Matchify. It was a flood, and I was already drowning.
I pulled back, breathless, disoriented.
Grant’s chest rose and fell, but he didn’t try to close the space I’d created. He just watched me calmly.
ButIwanted to close the space. I wanted more of Grant. I wanted everything, every question and answer he had. I’d tell him anything he wanted if he’d just hold me again.
His calm was the perfect contrast to the storm inside me. A storm that was bound to hurt me, and when it did, I knew with every neuron in my overparticular brain that it would hurt more than anything I’d experienced before. More than Chase.
I put my hands against his chest—just my fingertips—and pushed lightly.
He stepped back.
“I’ve done this before, Grant.”
Grant looked at me, half-quizzical, half-alert. “I would’ve remembered if we’d done that before. I’ve been wanting to for a while now.”
I clenched my eyes shut. I couldn’t focus with him right in front of me and my hands and lips still itching to be on him again. “You know I don’t mean that.”
“Tell me what you mean, then, Vivian.”
“I mean the chemistry without compatibility thing.”
“We’re not incompatible.”
I opened my mouth, and he put a hand up. “I know. Twelve percent. I get it. Listen. No shade to Matchify because it’s incrediblewhat you’ve built, okay? But compatibility is about more than an algorithm. Itcanmean two very similar things working together, but it can also be like harmony in music—two different things that come together and make something more interesting. Something richer and deeper.That’swhat you and I have.”
The picture he painted sounded so good, so beautiful, like together we’d float along the lines of a music staff, effortless and in tune.
“I get that you’re afraid,” he said. “But are you afraid for yourself? Or because of what you and I would mean for Matchify?”
“Both!” I nearly yelled.
Fear for myself had been at the forefront of my brain, but the mention of Matchify reminded me how much more than my pathetic heart there was at stake. It was one thing not to use my own product—to use it and go in direct contradiction to it? It was like Jeff Bezos using Temu instead of Amazon. “Ofcourseboth. I just…” I pressed my lips together and forced myself to breathe before continuing. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what’s real. It’s all so…sudden.”
A wry smile curved his lips. Lips that had been on mine just minutes ago.
