She brought her fingers to her lips, as if recalling a kiss. He couldn’t resist. “Sometimes, it’s just kissing her because she needs to be kissed, and because you can’t help yourself when it comes to her,” Nate said and kissed her once more. A soft, slow kiss. An unhurried one, as he explored her lips with tender moves, tracing her mouth with the tip of his tongue, gently brushing his fingertips along her face. Their bodies drew near to each other inch by inch, as if an invisible thread knit them together. The kiss became a sensuous journey across her mouth and her lips and her tongue. It was her melting into his arms, and him melting with her. Because he kissed her with all he had and she kissed him back the same way, spreading her hand across his chest, and hooking her leg over his. It was a full body kiss, heady and intoxicating, and it pulled him under, like a wave. He barely wanted to come up for air.

Then he stopped and looked her in the eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Is what okay?” she asked, sounding dazed. Looking dazed too. He loved that kiss-drunk look she wore so well after he’d touched her.

“If I just kiss you like that? For no reason? Or is that crossing a line in our agreement?”

“Oh, right. Yes, our agreement,” she said, smoothing her hands down her shirt, looking away from him. She seemed to be . . . rebooting. When she returned her gaze to him, she had on that business-like face.

“I think as long as we know that there are lines we’ll be fine,” she said, in a cool and measured voice.

“Absolutely. The lines are clear. Hell, if you want, I can keep my hands off unless we’re practicing a lesson,” he said, perhaps more gung-ho than he intended. But he couldn’t stop. He needed the reminders too. He laid on the bravado reassurances that he was cool with it all. “It’s not a problem. I can easily just take a step back when we’re not in the middle of things.”

“Don’t you worry,” she said with a cheerful smile. “I’m not going to get confused and think the sex, or the almost-sex, or the kissing for no reason, means anything more than it does. We’re still friends, and these lessons aren’t changing that,” she said, so damn matter-of-factly that she could be teaching a course on nonchalance.

His chest tightened, and he tried to ignore the way those words gnawed at him. They shouldn’t annoy him, because this was what he wanted. To stay friends with her, and to be the one to help her in her quest.

The friendship mattered too much to him to let this momentary irritation win.

That was why he stayed. That was why he ate sesame chicken and moo shu pancakes and broke fortune cookies with her, handing her his—now is the time to try something new—and saying, “I believe this one was meant for you.” She gave him hers, as she said, “Then, this must be yours then. Your fondest dreams will come true this year.”