Page 184 of A Taste of Vanilla

His mouth leaves mine again and moves to the corner of my jaw. “You should go back inside,” he says.

I laugh once, breathless. “You’re kissing my neck and giving me instructions?”

“Yes.”

“That’s deeply unfair.”

“You’re a good girl; you can handle it.”

Fire. Everywhere.

And the ground is dropping out from under me.

I open my mouth to argue, but the side door to Saints & Sinners rattles.

We break apart like teenagers caught in the act, Warren pulls his hand from my waist and grabs the coffee while I reach for the tray of cups.

Oliver’s voice comes through the door before it’s open all the way. “If either of you are doing something stupid in my hallway, I’m getting the hose.”

The door opens further, and Oliver’s face appears, unimpressed and exhausted as I hold the tray against my belly.

His eyes move to Warren, then to me, then to Warren’s latte, and back to me.

“Nope,” Oliver says, and he shuts the door.

I stare at the closed door before facing Warren. His jaw is tight and his ears are bright red.

From the other side of the door, Oliver says, “I can still hear the tension!”

I close my eyes, and when I open them, Warren’s mouth curves into a small smile.

“Do not laugh,” I hiss.

“I’m not.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Warren watches me as I take a step back, his expression sobering as I put more space between us. Neither of us says what we both know.

That the kiss from the other night didn’t end anything. It made things ten times worse.

That I know his name. I know he’s the one who stepped up and took care of his sister when his parents didn’t. I know how willing he is to help me without judgment.

That everylist, every latte, every pastry, every argument over structure and sweetness is making this thing between us harder to pretend isn’t there.

That he’s still supposed to leave.

That I’m still not supposed to care.

That I do.

I look at the drink in his hand. “Your secret is safe,” I say.

His gaze holds mine.

“For now.”

He smiles.