𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿ ¹

029

He was first to pull away after god knows how long. Immediately, he missed the taste of her lips and the feeling of them— and it took almost everything not to just press his mouth to hers again.

Her eyes remained shut, simply basking in the rush. Her lips stung, in the best way. Her chest was inhaling and exhaling rapidly, breathless.

His eyes fluttered open. He saw that hers were still closed. Slowly, he trailed his gaze around every part of her face while still keeping a hand on her cheek— thumb gently stroking her cheekbone. He looked at the perfect bridge of her nose, the shape of her eyebrows that curved perfectly above her eyes— and her eyes, once she opened them, he knew that he'd be mesmerized by their color, allured by their endless depth. He looked at the curve of her lips and the red tinge to them, the plumpness from swelling. And her hair, falling in the most perfect places around her eyes.

His mind flicked back to when they'd been on the dock at the lake. He thought about how much she'd told him, about how absolutely breathtaking she looked in the sunrise glow, how mesmerizing she'd looked with the necklace around her neck under the jewelry shop lights— and suddenly he realized how desperately he'd wanted to kiss her then, on the docks. How desperately he'd wanted to kiss her all along. It struck him like a punch to the gut.

Slowly, and trying to steady his breathing, he trailed his hand from her jaw up to her temple. Her all along. Behind her shut eyes, she inhaled sharply as the tip of his finger grazed the cut on her forehead ever so delicately— smoothing over the band-aid so very carefully. All along. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open.

The second his eyes met hers, she felt a rush soar through her veins, and the fire inside her stomach blazed just the same as when they'd been kissing. His lips pulled up in the slightest, softest way at the sight of her eyes staring back at him. They were still only inches apart, noses nearly touching.

Steve swallowed, and took in a breath to ease his lungs.

"Would you hate me even more," he whispered, as he moved his finger from behind her ear, down to her mouth, "if I said you're beautiful," he trailed his finger all the way across her swollen bottom lip— just like he did before.

"Yes," she breathed out.

"Then hate me," his soft brown eyes met her own, looking at her honestly. "Cause' I can't sit here like this and not admit that you're beautiful, Lori."

Her real name echoed in the back of her heart, and hit much harder than the stupid nickname he always used. Her heart made a jump, and her stomach tightened in a knot. Heat rose to her cheeks.

Steve's lip pulled up in a grin as he studied her face, "You're blushing," he whispered. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up, Harrington." she rolled her eyes. But she'd never, not once, rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time. "You're not slick."

His hand slid off the curve of her waist, and settled on her leg.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling the lingering aftertaste of his lips. "Does this change anything?"

The question burned her, but still, she said it.

"Change anything in what," he breathed out, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth.

She swallowed, and mustered up the word, "Us," she said.

"We can be whatever the hell you wanna be, Philbs." he said, honestly.