Page 344 of Playing With Fire

I stare at him. “For what?”

“Your leading man.”

I laugh. “You're going to act out my chapter?”

“Unless you've got another six-foot-something blond hockey player waiting in the wings.”

“My hero has dark hair.”

“Tragic. We'll have to improvise.”

I get off the bed, still laughing, and stop in the doorway.

Bishop's smile softens. For a moment he isn't joking anymore.

“You can come closer, Becks,” he says, borrowing the hero's line. “But only if you want to.”

The room seems to grow quiet around us.

I take one step. Then another.

“You're supposed to say the next line,” I whisper.

“I know.” His gaze holds mine. “But I want to say something that's mine first.”

He reaches for my hand and presses it against his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart is beating fast.

“I spent years pretending I didn't want you because I was afraid of what it would cost me.” His voice roughens. “And you spent years wondering if you were enough.”

I try to speak, but he shakes his head gently.

“You were never the thing I had to give up, Delaney. You were the thing I was too scared to ask for.”

My throat tightens.

“That's not in the chapter,” I manage.

“It should be.”

He brushes his thumb along my jaw.

“Can I kiss you?”

I smile through the sudden sting in my eyes. “You know you can.”

“I know.” He leans close enough that I feel his breath against my cheek. “I just like hearing you say yes.”

“Yes, Hayes.”

He kisses me. Slowly at first, as though he's giving me time to change my mind. My hands slide to his shoulders, and I feel his smile against my mouth when I draw him closer.

“How am I doing?” he murmurs.

“You're skipping dialogue.”

“Is that bad?”

“Depends. Are you going to make it up to me?”