Page 41 of Then Came You

“Don’t all kids?” Adults can play it too.

She smirked instead of answering.

“C’mon. Just show me.”

“Why should I?”

“So, I have something to tease you about?”

“I called and woke you up in the middle of the night because of a bad dream. Isn’t that enough?”

He shook his head. “I told you to call.”

“But I didn’t need to.”

“Maybe you wanted to.”

His words hung in the air, and he questioned his sanity. He was really pushing her tonight, but oddly enough, she seemed okay with it. He noticed the clock on her mantel read three fifteen, and he decided the late hour was to blame for his inexplicable behavior. It had nothing to do with the fact that a beautiful woman was standing before him in her pajamas and no bra.

“Fine. I’ll show you my shirt, but then you have to let me go.”

He nodded his assent since his throat suddenly felt too thick to talk.

She pulled the robe off her shoulders until it hung around her waist and stood still while he read her shirt.

“Booklovers never go to bed alone.” He smiled, but not only at her choice of sleepwear. The T-shirt was white with black letters, and he saw the distinct points of her nipples through the fabric.

“There. Satisfied?”

Not quite. He swallowed hard and met her eyes. “Our T-shirts seem to be at odds with each other.”

Then he stood up, effectively releasing the tie of her robe in the process. He expected her to cover up again, but she just stood there and eyed him closely, expectantly?

Their bodies were mere inches apart, and the air crackled between them. At least, that was how it felt to him.

“I should probably go get us some water.”

“Probably.” When she didn’t move, he slowly reached out and palmed her cheek, and she nuzzled into it. He moved closer.

“Sam…”

“Tell me to leave, Gillian.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I might kiss you.” He brought his other hand up and cupped her face, searching her eyes for consent or rejection and hoping it would be the former.

“Maybe I want you to.”

He glanced at her lips and then further down to where her chest was rising and falling and her shirt was brushing his.

“Maybe?”

“Forget maybe. I do want you to kiss me.”

Sam could hardly believe his ears, but he didn’t ask her to repeat it. Instead, he dipped his head down and softly brushed his lips over hers.

She closed the gap between them, wound her arms around his waist, and parted her lips, erasing any doubt that this was what she wanted—what they both wanted.