There was amazement in her eyes as she studied the photo of Smith and me skiing in the Swiss Alps and asked, “Do you always travel with friends?”

“More often than not, I go by myself.”

“You don’t mind the quiet?”

I’d never considered that question. “I actually prefer it.”

“That surprises me.”

I turned my chair to face her, the slight action reminding me that there was still so much pain. “I’m an only child, Whitney. I’m used to silence.”

She shrugged. “I would just think it’s easier, maybe more rewarding, to experience it with someone else.”

“When you’re alone, it no longer becomes a trip about compromise.” I glanced at the picture of Japan, remembering the challenges that had presented itself and the language barrier. “When you can’t rely on someone else to steer you, a confidence builds from within, and you learn to use your senses more. That’s when you really find yourself.”

She took a drink of her wine. “Caleb, I’ve never even eaten at a restaurant by myself.”

“You should try it. You don’t need chatter to keep yourself occupied. Just listen to what the room is trying to tell you. The experience will really surprise you.”

She leaned into the edge of my desk. “Your adventurous side is so inspiring.”

I glanced down at my legs, a view I still wasn’t used to. “You have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations. That’s the only way you’re going to grow. You know that, Whitney; you even taught me that.” As I stared into those dark pools of hope, the words began to come out on their own. “For example, if I wasn’t in this wheelchair, I would lift you onto that desk, place my hands on your cheeks, and ravish your lips. It’s a risk—something or someone could intervene—but one I’d be more than willing to take.” A heat spread across her face as I continued, “That’s how you have to treat life. Book that trip; take that adventure. Reach for that kiss—”

She pushed off the wood, setting down her wine, and closed the space between us. Her hands immediately surrounded my scruff, her lips pressing against mine. I growled as I took in her tender mouth, tasting the coconut scent as it mixed with the wine on her tongue. A sensual and savory combination, making me crave more of her. So, I circled her waist, pulling her as close as I could get her.

She felt like a fucking dream, and I breathed, “Whitney,” as my cock hardened even more, throbbing in my shorts.

“My God, you’re a good kisser.” Her mouth was on mine again, more softly this time. Her grip tightening on my skin, her tongue sliding in, teasing.