He flipped straight to the end, his eyes tracking quickly across the page, then slowing when he found it. His smile softened as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “Thank you, most of all, to Ryan Whitlock. Weak words have no place here. Only the strong will survive,” he reads. In one motion, he clapped the book shut, it landed on the love seat, and he pulled me into a kiss.

I want him.

It should be a harsh realization that crashes into me. That’s how it happens in all the books anyway. But it’s not. It’s warm and soft as it slides into my mind and over my heart. It feels like coming home.

His hand falls away from my cheek and he takes a step back. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

I huff a laugh. Out of line. Sure. If he only knew that I can’t stop thinking about kissing him, holding him, having him in my life again.

“It wasn’t.” My voice is raspy and raw. “You’re right. I need…I don’t know. Something else. Something I can do besides write and get in my own head.”

Ryan runs a hand through his hair. It stands out at odd angles, and a lock of it falls over his forehead. “You mean besides watching holiday baking shows?”

“Make fun all you want, but you have to admit that there’s something really soothing about watching cake batter pour into a pan.”

His chuckle is quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever heard, and the sound of it draws my own rusty laugh out of me. We linger in the light humor, mirroring each other’s smiles, our eyes locked as if neither of us wants to look away. The earlier tension between us isn’t broken, but it’s subdued—a candle flame rather than a roaring bonfire.

We both open our mouths to speak at the same time, then laugh again at the awkwardness of it. But before we can do the You first, No you thing, a loud ringing sounds from Ryan’s pocket. His shoulders tense, and he looks around as if he doesn’t realize it’s his phone making the sound. When he figures it out, he pulls the phone from his back pocket. A glance at the screen has him tensing even further.

“I have to take this,” he says apologetically. “Can I…” He motions to the bedroom.

“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” I nod emphatically like a fool who doesn’t know how to work her own body. Get a grip, I tell myself as Ryan slips into the bedroom and shuts the door behind him.