Page 34 of The Write Place

“I can probably guess.” I cringe at how un-sexy my reply sounds.

He curses softly, then frowns. “You ruined my line.”

“You had a line?”

“I’m a writer. Of course I had a line.” He drops his chin and looks at me as if it’s obvious.

“What was it, then?” I ask, trying to hold back my laugh.

He shakes his head. “No way. I’m saving it for later.” At that I do laugh, and he smirks despite himself.

“Didn’t you say you’re just getting out of a serious relationship? And you’re basically here because you’re running away from her?” I ask. At that, he takes a small step back and runs a hand through his brown hair, puffing out a breath. A piece of hair falls over his forehead, making him look a little disheveled, and my fingers itch to push it out of the way.

“I don’t think those were my exact words.”

“Semantics.” I level a playful glare at him. He narrows his eyes slightly.

“I wasn’t running away. I needed some space, and our relationship had been over for a long time before that.”

“Look, Daniel,” I trail off and then give him a little helpless motion. “Issues with us sitting in a room together for eight hours a day for three more weeks aside, I don’t want to be someone’s vacation fling.”

“I’m not on vacation.”

“Research trip fling, then. Rebound fling is even worse. It seems that I’ve gotten very good at finding men who only want to stick around for a month or so and then get annoyed with me for working hard, and I suddenly find that I’m not really interested in that anymore, no matter how much I might want this.” I surprise myself a little at the admission, but it’s true, so I let it stand.

Daniel lets his breath out slowly between pursed lips. “Honestly, all I heard was that you want this.” I laugh, exasperated. “I understand,” he continues, closing his eyes. He opens them again, and there is a fierceness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “But I need you to know, Mackenzie,” the sound of my full name on his lips sends a shiver up my spine, “that I have had flings in my life, and not one of them has gotten stuck in my head like you have. Not one of them has my heart feeling like it has been wrung dry watching how much she cares about people without worrying about what she’s going to get in return. Not one of them feels like she’s an island in the middle of an ocean full of sharks every time I get stuck talking to a bunch of fans, even after ditching me to deal with them. And not one of them has talked about my work the way you’ve done. So, I understand if you’re reluctant to jump into whatever this is, but I can assure you there’s nothing about this that feels like a fling to me.”

I feel like my heart is going to hop right out of my chest through my throat. Suddenly, I can barely breathe, only able to take little sips of the air we’re sharing between us. I move to wrap my arms around my abdomen and take a step back, but I jolt as my back hits the wall behind me.

Daniel reaches out to grab my wrist. “Don’t.” The word stops me, same as it did in the park, but he continues. “Don’t cover yourself. Don’t shrink away. You can say no to me, but don’t for one second think that you need to cower or feel embarrassed. You are fucking beautiful. You are beautiful tonight, and you were beautiful when I scared the shit out of you on your run, and you are beautiful every damn day from the minute you walk into my line of sight until the minute you walk out.” He moves one hand to my cheek, tracing it, and then weaves his fingers gently into my hair. My eyelids flicker shut.

“For someone who doesn’t believe in happy endings, you are really good at this,” I whisper, breathless, my eyes still closed. I can feel his breath warming me, smelling sweetly of red wine and vaguely of garlic.

“I believe in things that are real, and this feels real. Let me kiss you.” His plea is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid he’ll spook me. I can feel his body now almost pressed against me, holding me gently against the wall with his hand still threaded through my hair. It might be the most sensual position I’ve ever been in, and I keep my eyes closed for a moment longer, drinking in the feel of him. When I open my eyes, he’s looking at me with such longing, it knocks the breath out of me again.

He holds himself perfectly still, patiently waiting for me to decide. He won’t push me on this, just like he hasn’t pushed me on anything all night. If I say no right now, he would walk away and he’d never make me feel guilty about it. But I can also feel that if I say yes, he’d take everything I said tonight seriously.

I need another minute, so I ask, my voice slightly louder than a whisper, “What was your ulterior motive for asking me out tonight?”

His laugh suggests what he’s about to say is anything but funny, and his lips come slightly closer to mine. I can almost feel them move when he responds, “I wanted you all to myself for a few hours.”

“That was your line?” I ask, not moving closer, but not moving away.

“That was my line,” he admits.

“It was a good line,” I concede, and he laugh-groans as he shifts on his feet. My breath catches.

“You’re killing me, Mac,” he whispers against my lips. I nod ever so slightly. He gives a small shake of his head. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” I whisper, and it only takes a heartbeat for his lips to meet mine.

This kiss is slow and sensual, exciting in how soft and gentle he is, all while having me completely cornered against the wall. He kisses like he writes—full of feeling, carefully selecting each motion to draw out his intended result. He’s still holding on to one wrist, but I bring my free hand up along his back and I swear I can feel him shudder beneath my touch as I draw him closer. The brick scrapes lightly against my back, but he doesn’t lean into me too hard. The pressure is just enough so I can feel the warm length of his body against mine.

His kiss is languid and sensual, but he’s not holding back. It feels like the kiss of a man who knows exactly how to take his time. His lips gently open mine and his tongue slides in, making lazy circles. My knees weaken a bit at the sensation, and I can feel him smile slightly against my lips. The hand he has on my wrist lets go, and he trails it up my hip, deliberately lifting the hem of my dress until he’s touching bare skin.

I suck in a sharp breath, and he backs away, his eyes searching mine.

“Not that. Not tonight,” I say, breathless. He smiles softly.