Page 65 of While the Sun Shines

God, I hope so, he thinks. “Seems like it,” he says as evenly as he can.

“Then, if we’re going to finally kiss, can we at least have a do-over?”

“A—” He lets out a laugh. “What?”

“C’mon, we can’t leave it like that, can we?”

“I’m not—that’s—” An awful idea. A wonderful one. Perfect and terrifying, and his heart’s racing and he can—they can kiss? That’s an invitation? She’s going to kiss him like he’s thought of again and again and again, these nights that feel so charged, like one of them will finally—finally—tip toward the other, their eyes meeting, and the soft, hesitant expectancy between them blooming into so much more.

“Now?” he asks and his voice sounds too high.

“We don’t have to,” she says and no, no, no, no, his mind screams. “But haven’t you always wondered?”

He blinks. And then blinks again. Too fast. Over and over again. “Have you?”

“Well, yeah, of course I have.” Penny looks him over in the same assessing way she has all day. Though now she pulls in a breath and slowly touches his cheek. He’s frozen, heat racing over his skin. Her eyes dance over his face. “No?”

“N—” His voice isn’t working. He clears his throat. “Not—not no.”

Penny laughs, a soft sound, and she’s close enough he can feel the puff of her breath on his face. “Drew?”

“No, that was—that was a weird thing to say.”

“Yeah, it was.” She laughs again, and oh shit it’s Penny and she’s wondered and thought about this and he absolutely can’t breathe.

Can’t care about that fact either, with her face so close to his, her fingertips on his cheek.

Kiss me, he thinks like he has a thousand times before, but this time she actually does. Their noses brush. And their mouths. Gently, he presses his lips to hers. Hesitantly, softly kisses her, and then quickly pulls back.

Her fingers tickle over his beard, her eyes slowly opening.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Well, sure. But that’s all you’ve got?”

“No, I mean, yes, I—”

She smiles. “I’m teasing you.”

“Okay. Right. Yeah.”

Penny smiles again, and this time kisses him while she does it. Presses the curve of her lips to his, cups his cheek, and then more firmly pushes their lips together. And when she pulls back again, it’s only to breathe before moving closer once more. She’s really—wow, she’s really, actually kissing him.

And it’s better than he could’ve imagined. Better than he has imagined, all those years of wondering and waiting. Her hands slip over his cheeks, down to curve over the back of his neck, dip into the collar of his shirt. And he can comb his fingers through her hair, curve an arm around her waist, and pull the weight of her body into his, firm and warm and soft.

Drew loves her. And there she’s been, living in their house, day after day, lonely…he slips his fingers into her hair, cups her head in his hand, and kisses her again. Pulls back, breathes, and then kisses her firm and slow, tugging at her lower lip. How fucking awful, that she’s felt like that. That he didn’t know, didn’t think, didn’t realize.

He tips her head to the side, kisses her and kisses her. Impossible, that she spent a single day not knowing what she means to him. He presses closer, squeezes her waist, and holds her tight.

She feels so good against him. How he pictured it and better at the same time, the way she fits in his arms, the smell of her skin, the strange familiarity of kissing her, when it should be new and unknown.

Slow down, Drew tells himself. Savor this.

But her lips part, and oh, this is better than trading restrained kisses. The swipe of her tongue and the taste of her mouth. He holds her head in his hand and kisses back like he’s always thought of, deep and slow, as his heart pounds and a soft noise rises from her throat.

Drew pulls away to tip their foreheads together, his breath coming quick. She feels so good against him, wrapped tight in the hold of his arms, his fingers deep in her hair, her hands slipping over the nape of his neck.

A kiss. That’s what she wanted. Not pawing at each other, not the years of want that he tries to hold back.