Page 44 of The Callahan Effect

"I'd rather hear no than make you uncomfortable."

Emotion caught unexpectedly in my throat. No one had ever given me room to choose so completely.

You could never make me uncomfortable.

His expression softened as he read the words.

"I've wanted to kiss you since you arrived."

Heat crept into my face.

"I'm taking your blush as a good sign but you can still leave," he assured.

I shook my head.

I want this…all of it.

Mason's expression changed. The confidence he'd carried all afternoon gave way to something far more vulnerable, and I realized I wasn't the only one afraid of what came next.

"Jack." He spoke my name softly. "I need to know you're sure."

I want you. I'm not confused. I'm not doing this because I can't say no.

Mason read the words once. Then again. His throat worked.

"Okay," he whispered. "But if you want me to stop, tap my wrist. Twice. Or push me away. Anything."

After I nodded, he stood, close enough that the heat radiating off him reached me. A faint red mark crossed his jaw where a helmet strap had rubbed the skin. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch everything I had spent days pretending not to notice.

Mason lifted one hand and stopped just short of my face.

"Can I?"

I caught his wrist and placed his palm against my cheek.

His breath caught and the small sound shot through me. I leaned into his hand, and for one suspended second I had what I'd wanted since first laying eyes on the man: his touch, careful and certain, not pitying, not rushed.

When I opened my eyes, he was watching me like I had given him something precious.

"I've thought about this since I first saw you," he admitted. "More than I should."

My mouth curved despite the tightness in my chest. I tapped at my chest and Mason's eyebrows rose.

"You have too?"

I reached for the front of his shirt. The cotton was cool beneath my knuckles. Mason's gaze dropped to my hand, then returned to my face.

"Tell me if this is too fast."

I pulled him closer.

Our first kiss was slow. Deliberate. Mason closed the final distance between us and lifted one hand to my cheek. His touch was feather-light, giving me every opportunity to move away if I'd changed my mind.

I didn't. Instead, I leaned into his hand.

Then, with all the patience I'd come to expect from him, the lips I'd been dreaming about finally found mine. The kiss was gentle enough to steal my breath, carrying none of the urgency I'd expected and all of the tenderness I hadn't realized I'd been searching for.

His lips were warm. Softer than I had expected. He held my jaw with one hand and my waist with the other, keeping me close without trapping me. I opened for him when he asked with the pressure of his tongue, and the room filled with the faint scrape of our breathing.