Maybe she was. That might explain why she put up no protest when Jules leaned in close at the front door. And why she didn’t back away when Jules gently pressed her lips against Vivian’s cheek.

So soft. So smooth. It took everything Jules had not to move her lips just a few millimeters to the left and cover Vivian’s mouth in the kiss she craved.

She was pretty sure, based on the way Vivian’s breath broke into pieces, that Vivian would let her.

No. Not yet.

Jules pulled away to see that Vivian’s blush was in full bloom and goosebumps were clearly visible on her throat. Her eyes were glazed again. Everything about her was begging to be fucked right there in the hallway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jules croaked and fled before Vivian could reply—before Jules could get ahead of herself and ruin everything.

Not yet, not yet.

But ten minutes later, as Jules stood on the subway platform with a tingling mouth, she dared to hope that not yet could also mean soon.

Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Jules kept up the teasing little kisses for the next week, an exercise she found both frustrating and fun. She would come over for dinner after work. The night would end with Vivian submitting reluctantly to a soft brief kiss on her hand or cheek that made her tremble.

Reluctant. Sure. Vivian was not a stupid woman. She had to know that even if she didn’t go around kissing other women as a rule, she sure as hell liked being kissed by Jules. Maybe she just didn’t like admitting she’d been wrong. It seemed all too likely. Why should romance be different from work?

But that was okay for now. There was nothing wrong with taking things slowly—not with important things like this. There was too much at stake, too much that could be ruined by careless mistakes.

If Vivian still needed a little convincing, Jules could happily do that. She could…woo. Yeah, that was it. Vivian would definitely be the sort of woman who felt she deserved a little wooing, that she was worth pursuing.

Vivian was open to being pursued. She could easily have let Jules depart her home without a kiss of any kind. She could have begged off dinner for a night or two because she was tired. She never did any of that.

On the seventh night, Jules felt secure enough to murmur as she leaned in, “You know, you absolutely don’t have to let me kiss you.”

“Don’t I?” Vivian asked, her warm breath stirring the air by Jules’s ear.

Jules opened her mouth to say, of course not, but Vivian turned her head. Ever so slightly. Just enough for her lips to touch Jules’s own cheek.

She couldn’t be—this had to be a dream—

Vivian kissed her cheek, light as a feather, soft as silk.