“What made you kiss me?” he asks in a low voice that promises to make coffee and bring it to me in bed in the morning.
“You kissed me!” I answer, my hands on his shoulders now. I bat him lightly with one hand.
“Why?” he insists. I can tell he won’t let me squirm out of this one. My phone is buzzing like mad and I imagine Steve is about to send a search party after us. Big deal. Who cares.
I look up, a few inches between us, and his eyes change. He’s taller than me, arms protective and he wants me. Wants. Not just desires me, not just likes me. Wants. Craves. I am irresistible, and the part of me that finds that laughable is sitting back in wonder, thinking she got it all wrong for many, many years.
I close my eyes and sigh. “You had me at ‘both.’”