Definitely, Maybe in Love

My breath hitched as I felt a rush of cold air when Henry peeled apart the front of my coat and slid his arms around me. I was pulled forward. Warmth again. With my face at his neck, I breathed in, feeling giddy.

We adjusted into each other, so we fit just right. His nose was on my cheek, moving in a circle, sending fresh tingles through my body. My spine felt flimsy and flittery, like an uncoiling spool of ribbon. While on its exploratory mission, his hand froze in place when it touched a two inch space on the small of my back between where my T-shirt ended and my pajama bottoms began. The touch of skin on skin made us inhale in unison.

“You are cold,” he whispered. “Let’s do something about that.” Quicker than I thought possible, he pulled me forward onto his lap and slid his hands up the back of my shirt. Heat and silky warmth pushed through my bloodstream.

Millions of moments ticked by, but I was conscious only of his hands, his lips, the buzz in my head.

I returned to consciousness again when Henry suddenly drew in a sharp inhale. I opened one eye, then quickly released my grip on his neck, noticing the four red marks from my fingers.

He kept his eyes on mine, his lips curving into a slow, sexy smirk. “Atta tiger,” he breathed over my mouth.

“I…clawed you,” I whispered. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I wasn’t complaining.” He lifted a smile that melted everything in me that wasn’t already goo. “I was complimenting.”

After another kiss that was far too short, he slid me off his lap and stood up. The front of my body was suddenly freezing, missing his warmth, his arms, his breath in my mouth. The weight of his hands was heavy as he placed them on the tops of my shoulders and looked down at me. His hair was thoroughly mussed up from my fingers, rendering him even sexier than I’d labeled him just moments ago.

“I’m going to stoke the fire now,” he said.

A bit out of practice at interpreting suggestive innuendos, I didn’t quite understand his meaning, but I was pretty sure I got the gist. So, I smiled, slid my hands around his waist and went to stand. But Henry held me in place.

“No, Spring,” he said after a soft laugh. “I mean, stoke the fire, the actual fire.” He nodded toward the fading embers behind him. “What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing,” I said, exhaling a giggle. “The fire. Right.”

He bent down and kissed the tip of my nose. “Don’t move.”

As I watched him walk away, I pressed my lips together. They were already swollen, probably from the stubble on his neck that I couldn’t stay away from. I knew I would have telltale markings on my face tomorrow morning—more obvious evidence of making out than even a hickey. There’d be no way to hide it then, to hide what we’d been doing for the past hour.

But the question was, would I want to hide it?

Henry was down on one knee before the diminishing cinders, rebuilding our neglected fire. When he finished, he opened the cooler and took out a bottle of water. He held up another one, pointing it at me, but I shook my head. He unscrewed the lid and took a drink.

“You completely dehydrated me,” he said in a low voice. Then he winked.

Holy frack.

I took in a gulp of cold night air, but that only made me more lightheaded, feeling simultaneously dizzy and extremely alert from breathing in the smell of his neck for so long. These were uncharted waters for me, but I wouldn’t think about that. Now was not the time to dissect everything or analyze to death in my Spring way.

When he was finished with his water, he didn’t return to his spot next to me, but instead sat on the blanket at my feet, facing the roaring fire. He leaned back against my legs, his body warm and solid.

“Do you remember that time in my kitchen?” he asked in the tiniest of whispers.

My heart sped up as I remembered that morning. “Yes,” I answered, looking down at the back of his head, his dark hair blowing gently.

“Then there was that night up in my hallway and the morning before vacation…in your bedroom.”

“Mm hm.” My chest was getting hot again.

“It happened once, then it didn’t happen again, twice.” His right hand wrapped around my right ankle. Even after the past hour, his touch was still a shock to my system, a very welcomed shock. “I promised myself I would never allow another opportunity to pass.” His other hand was around my other ankle now. “I know you know what I mean.”

I did, indeed.

His hands slid inside my pajama legs, moving up and down on the lower part of my calves. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly as blood zinged through my veins. “I hate to disappoint you, Knightly, but I wouldn’t have kissed you either of those other times.” My protest sounded humorously unconvincing, because even as I spoke, I shifted forward, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Honeycutt.” He sighed impatiently. “Yes you would have.” He squeezed one of my legs. “And I wasn’t talking about just kissing you.”

My heart pounded hard and fast, almost painfully, and I glanced to the side, noticing how close the tent was to where we were sitting; too close for anything more to happen between us tonight. Although every time Henry touched me, I knew what I wanted.

Calm yourself, Springer. You’re together, and you’ve got plenty of time.

This was further confirmed when Henry reached back and took my hand, gently tugging me forward until I was seated on the ground beside him. “Hi,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and scooting me until there wasn’t an inch between us.

“Hi.” I tucked my chin to rest against his chest. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking the same thing I always think when I’m around you.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’ve been talking way too much.”

“Acknowledging that you’re loquacious doesn’t answer my question. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

In my entire life, I’d never asked a guy that question. I didn’t know what possessed me to inquire now. What kind of answer could he possible give me? I bit my lip and waited.

After a moment, he shifted, his arm around me loosening. “Okay,” he said. “This is genuine sentiment, Spring. Are you ready?”

I took in a deep breath. I didn’t want the mood to be spoiled by Henry being, well, Henry. “Ready,” I said.

Before he spoke, he took my chin in his hand and tilted my face to look me in the eyes. “I feel like tonight is Christmas and my birthday,” he whispered. “And I just got everything on my list. That is how I’m feeling.”

I let this sentiment sink into my soul. A moment later, I pulled back, slid my chin from his hand, and rolled onto my knees. Henry blinked up at me, uncharacteristically vulnerable. His eyes were soft and brown as we gazed at each other. I put both hands on his cheeks then ran them down the sides of his neck, stopping when I got to his shoulders.

“Well then,” I said, pushing his body back, my body following him down, “happy birthday, Henry,” I whispered. “Again.”

The chirps of night crickets turned to croaking frogs, and before we knew it, the orange sun was a dim line on the eastern horizon. It was still plenty dark and I was not ready for morning.

“Are you sleeping?” I whispered. Henry lay on his back, and I was on my side, both my arms linking through one of his, my forehead against his shoulder.

My question seemed like a logical one; it had been about five minutes since either of us had spoken or moved, and that was the longest we’d gone without kissing all night.

“Thinking, not sleeping,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my hairline.

“About?” I asked, resting my chin on top of his shoulder so I could look him in the eyes. Henry in the dim white light of pre-dawn. Swoon City.

He took a deep breath, twisting his back in a little stretch. “Timing,” he answered. “And irony.”

“Timing and irony occupies your mind at five in the morning? Is that the effect I have on you?”

“The effect you have on me…” he repeated. He was looking past me, up at the murky sky. “Actually, I was