“Uh, well,” I begin, groping for some kind of reasonable explanation and grasping nothing. I reach over and slam my laptop shut.
“You left it open. I just caught some of it, then I couldn’t stop reading.” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry.”
I glance at the front door. I don’t care if the snow is up to my neck—I’d rather be out there right now.
“Alex.” His voice is a low, husky rumble as he says my name. “Wow.”
My gaze flits back to him and I realize I’ve lost the ability to speak. Why on earth didn’t I close my laptop? How could I have been so stupid?
“You know,” he murmurs, taking a step closer, “I couldn’t help but notice the names you’ve chosen for your characters.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I stare down at the carpet, my face glowing. This can’t be happening. Please, God, I’ll do anything to make this stop.
“Matthew and Annie. They’re very similar to Michael and Alex.” He steps closer still. “And some of the scenes you’ve chosen seem familiar. There was this one scene in a bookstore, one in a hallway on Halloween, and another in a cabin…”
Fuck. He’s figured it out.
Humiliation crashes over me in hot waves and I close my eyes, wanting to die.
“You’ve been writing about us.”
I feel him step closer, then he places a finger under my chin and tilts my face up to his. My eyes flutter open involuntarily to find him gazing at me. But he’s not laughing or mocking me. Instead, there’s fire in his eyes and his mouth is slowly curling into a grin that sends my heart rate through the roof.
I swallow hard. “I know it’s stupid, but—”
“No. It’s not stupid. It’s hot.”
I hesitate, certain I’m misunderstanding. “What?”
“Yeah. Reading that—” He stops on a heavy breath, his eyes hazy as they roam my face. “It was like reading my own fantasies.”
I feel my jaw unhinge. He’s not appalled or disgusted. He’s turned on.
Fucking hell.
He trails his finger down my neck and along my collarbone. Goosebumps erupt over my skin, each one a tiny proof of the effect he has on me, of how much I want him. I’m breathless, staring at his mouth, wondering what his teeth would feel like skating over my skin. And God, those lips—so full and soft and delicious. I think of the pineapple taste of his kiss, the way his tongue felt sliding over mine, and molten lust shoots down through my center. Kissing him felt like the best thing in the world.
He must be thinking the same thing, because he lifts his hand to my face and drags his thumb over my bottom lip, swallowing visibly. Our eyes meet again, and when I see the raw, burning desire reflected back at me, my whole body feels like it will combust.
I pry my gaze away and Michael drops his hand. We stand in a thick cloud of tension, and when I finally risk glancing back at him, he’s staring at me hard.
“I don’t want to push you, Alex. But—fuck. You can’t say you’re okay being friends and then write stuff like this.” He forces out a lungful of air as a frown drags his eyebrows together. “You want to know what you said to me on New Year’s?”
“Yes. Please.”
“You said you didn’t care about your column if you could be with me.”
I want to be shocked by this, but I’m not. Because part of me had been thinking it all New Year’s Eve. Hell, that thought has been coming to me since he told me he liked me, three weeks ago. I thought I’d done a better job of fighting it off, but apparently, with enough alcohol in my system, I finally broke down and admitted what I want.
And that’s Michael. It’s always been Michael.
His gaze slides away and his jaw tightens. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this with you. It’s fucking killing me.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s not just you.”
“So what do you want me to do, then?” His voice has a gruff edge to it, and when his eyes meet mine again they’re dark, smoldering with frustration.
My blood rushes under my skin as I take a step closer. “I want you to kiss me.”
There’s a flicker of surprise on his face, quickly chased by relief. I expect him to pounce on me, but he doesn’t; he takes my face, sliding his fingers into my hair and stroking his thumb over my cheek. Every atom in my body zings with anticipation as he lowers his mouth, brushing his warm lips over mine in the most soft, spine-tingling kiss of my life.
Then he draws away, still holding me as his eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”
I push up onto my toes and kiss him again, harder. “I want you,” I murmur against his lips. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
His mouth tugs into a disbelieving smile, and he drops his hands to my waist, drawing me close. “I want you too, beautiful girl.”
Beautiful girl. His words hit me straight in the core and I shudder out a breath. I’m instantly hot all over, months of desire compressed into this one moment, ready to explode like a stick of dynamite at the slightest touch. But Michael is patient and gentle, his fingertips on my waist urging me closer as his lips graze my jaw and tease the corners of my mouth, then land on mine in another feather-soft kiss.
“Fuck, Alex,” he murmurs, “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”
“Me either,” I breathe, giddy. It’s like he’s flicked a switch and now my body is a live wire. Urgency pulses through my veins and I push him back against the table. My hands slide down to reach for his belt buckle, but he catches them in his own and I get a strange sense of déjà
