God, yes. Kiss me. Let me kiss you. I’ll learn every sweet inch of your mouth. Kiss you till it hurts to stop.

The words nearly left my mouth, when my sex-hazed brain finally cleared and that small, sensible, sane part of me hit the brakes hard and fast.

Kiss her? Shit. Fucking shit. I couldn’t kiss this woman. Not when I was so worked up I’d fall on her like a starved man.

Faced with my deer-in-the-headlights silence, Parker frowned. “That is… I mean, I thought we were supposed to…” I didn’t need brighter lighting to know she was blushing.

“Hey.” I reached out to cup her cheek but stopped halfway, my hand hovering there, making everything worse. My fingers curled into a fist and I dropped it to my thigh. “You’re right. We should. We were. Supposed to, that is.”

Fuck. I was sweating again.

She sucked in a sharp breath, bracing herself, and her gaze turned steely. “Let’s just get it over with.”

It wasn’t the most flattering statement. Which was good. This was a job. A job. I repeated the fact as I moved closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulder to draw her up against me. Later, I’d be laughing my ass off at myself. I wasn’t this guy, freaking out over the prospect of a simple kiss. A fake one at that.

But Parker was right; being alone made it more.

Parker pressed a hand against my chest—to brace herself or hold me at bay, I didn’t know. My mind was fuddled, spinning around like I’d taken a solid hit to the chin.

God, she was tiny. Delicate. Fragile. The back of her head fit perfectly in the well of my palm.

For a second, I didn’t know what to do. One wrong move, and I’d crush her. I’d been forged to be a fighter. Brutal strength was my weapon. It didn’t feel like an advantage at the moment. I felt like a bumbling oaf.

Parker let out a soft breath as her gaze searched my face. She was clearly waiting for me to make the first move.

I can do this. I can do this. It’s nothing big. A kiss. Done it plenty of times. I can keep it neutral.

We moved at the same time, Parker lifting her face to mine as I ducked my head. Our lips met in the softest kiss I’d ever had. I felt the plush give of her lips, tasted a whisper of the white wine she’d drank. The sweetness of the way she kissed—so very shy but curious—punched right through my chest and squeezed.

I swear the floor tilted.

But she was pulling back, a furrow of concentration forming between her brows. “There,” she said.

There?

My lips throbbed. I stared at her mouth and wanted more. I wanted back there. Now.