The Sun in My Eyes

34 Flicker and Sway, Still Dancing on the Aftertaste

"So." She gently pulled out of his embrace. "Thank you for my cupcake. It was delicious." She picked up the shirts intent on putting them away, but she stopped pushing them in. With her free hand she reached into the shelf and pulled out the pink neon heart he'd stuck there the day before. She gave him a questioning look.

"I fished it from the pool. A souvenir."

She flushed and looked away. "You wanted a souvenir of me losing my temper?"

"No. Of our first fight. It's a milestone."

She fought a smile and lost, her dimples flashing. "I suppose it is." She slid it back into the cubby and sat heavily on the bed. "Is this how you usually get out of fights? Cuteness and baked goods?"

He sat beside her, adjusting his towel to keep it in place. "Honestly, you're the first girl I've ever fought with."

"I refuse to believe you haven't infuriated another girl to the point of mayhem." Her expression was serious, but her lip twitched, and he laughed.

"Believe it or not, I haven't. You're just special." She snorted and he reached for her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. "How are you feeling today?"

She was quiet a moment. "I don't know." Her foot jiggled anxiously, and her ankle bracelet tinkled a tuneless song. "I really don't." Suddenly she let go of his hand and stood. "I need to take a shower."

"Hey." He reached for her and tugged her close. "I'm not trying to push you. I just wanted to know if you were alright. Last night was brutal. Hope was out of line."

Her stormy eyes softened. "I'm sorry—I..." She stepped closer and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his cheek to her stomach. She held him, her nails trailing gently up and down the back of his neck. Her tenderness overwhelmed him, and he squeezed her tighter. She sighed softly and stroked a loc off his forehead. "What am I gonna do with you, Pastry Chef?"

Fall for me and never stop falling. He forced those words back down from where they'd been hiding in his throat. Jesus Christ. No. "I dunno," he said, his voice creaky.

"Me neither." She leaned down and hesitated a moment. He looked up at her, unsure what she'd do. He kept his hands where they'd been around her waist, afraid to move. She seemed as skittish as a lost kitten and he feared sending her running.

She stared down at him as if she were trying to decipher a puzzle. Maybe now was the time to tell her how much she meant to him. And that he wanted things to be official so they could both relax and enjoy what they had. He'd have preferred something elaborate and showy, since she didn't mind that, but maybe a quiet moment was better.

He reached up and stroked her chin. "Lil, I wan—"

"Please kiss me," she whispered.

He lost all his words. All his intentions. He pulled her closer and cupped her jaw, closing the distance between them. His mouth found hers and he kissed her tenderly, savouring every second of sweet softness. Every second of renewed hope for another chance.

Her fingers dug into his locs. Sparks sizzled in his head and he hugged her tighter. She dropped onto his lap and he fell backward onto the bed, dragging her with him. They kissed for ages. He stroked his hands up and down her back. He was so damned happy just to be touching her, and to be touched by her.

Finally, she pulled away and flopped onto her back. He turned to face her. "Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?" he asked.

"I was just wondering the same thing about you."

"No idea." He played with her frizzed curls. "Do you remember your first kiss?"

"I do. But you hardly learn to be a good kisser from the first one, do you? That comes later, with a little experience. Or maybe good chemistry."