Page 124 of Ice Cold Chemistry
“This is insane,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“We’re in a supply closet.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m wrapped around you like a koala.”
“I noticed.”
She laughs—warm and bright and real—and I feel it move all the way through me.
“Come home with me.” The words come out rough. “Please.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are soft in the dim light, still a little wet at the edges. She cups my face in both hands.
“Take me home, Banksy.”
I kiss her one more time. Slow. Like I have all the time in the world now, because I do.
Then, reluctantly, I untangle us. She slides down, and we both make a sound we probably shouldn’t.
“You’re going to kill me,” I mutter.
“Not until I’m done with you.”
I crack the door, check the hall. Clear.
We slip out together, her hand in mine, both of us grinning.
The drive to my apartment takes forever. Every red light is torture. Every stop sign an assault. She’s in my passenger seat, wearing my jersey, her hand resting on my thigh, and I’m breaking approximately seventeen traffic laws trying to get us there faster.
“Slow down,” she laughs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You have no idea how much I like hearing that.”
She squeezes my thigh. “I mean it, Banks. I’m choosing you. Messy, complicated, terrible-at-communication you. All of it.”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
“I love you,” I say, because I can now, because I’m allowed to.
“I love you too.” She leans over and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Now drive faster.”
I accelerate.
Chapter Thirty-One
Tenderness
Winnie
Banks’ hand is wrapped around mine, and the anticipation is killing me. The elevator ride to his floor feels endless. I watch the floor numbers climb—eighteen, nineteen, twenty—and try to calm the butterflies rioting in my stomach.
The doors open on twenty-two, and he leads me down a quiet hallway. Soft carpet underfoot. Muted lighting. The kind of hush that comes with expensive soundproofing and neighbors who value their privacy.
He stops at the last door on the left—a corner unit. He fumbles with his keys; his hands are shaking slightly, I notice, and then the door swings open.
