Page 31 of The Grumpy Defenseman
His mouth found the side of my neck.
I cared less.
My hand went to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, and the last neat part of the evening came undone. He made another sound, rougher this time, and his mouth came back to mine.
My knee brushed his hip.
His whole body reacted.
He pulled back first.
Far enough that I could see his face.
His breathing was not steady.
“I need to stop,” he said.
For half a second, old fear mistook stopping for leaving.
Then his thumb moved over my cheek.
Slow.
Not leaving.
“Not because I want to.”
“I’m not doing this with you in a parking garage.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
His eyes dropped to my mouth again.
This time he let me see it.
“Samantha.”
“You make restraint sound very dramatic,” I said.
“You make it difficult.”
He was choosing not to cross a line just because desire had made it visible.
“You were right to stop,” I said.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying that too.”
I let go of his shirt. Slowly, which did not help either of us. His hand dropped from my face a second later.
We walked to my car without touching. He handed me my laptop case.
“You don’t have to watch me drive away,” I said.
“I know.”
