3. Hallie #3
His eyes darken, the green in them deepening to something like forest shadows.
The muscle in his jaw tightens, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
"Yeah?" The word comes out rough, lower than his normal speaking voice, and it sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature in the garage.
I nod, then realize I should probably use actual words like a functional adult.
"For practice," I manage, trying to inject some semblance of rationality into this moment, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it less earth-shattering.
"To make it believable when we're around everyone else.
" The explanation tumbles out in a rush, each word an attempt to convince myself this is purely strategic, purely practical, purely anything other than what it actually feels like.
"Right. Believable." He lifts a hand, fingers brushing my jaw, and my entire nervous system lights up like a pinball machine. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
I nod, because speech has become an impossibility, my entire vocabulary reduced to the single word reverberating through my mind like a mantra. My breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my throat.
He leans in slowly, agonizingly, beautifully slowly, his eyes locked on mine the entire time, giving me a thousand chances to back out, to laugh it off, to turn this into a joke we can both pretend never happened.
Each inch he closes between us feels like an eternity and an instant all at once, and I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, can smell the familiar scent of motor oil and soap and something indefinably him.
His hand is still on my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, and the anticipation is so intense it's almost painful.
And then his mouth is on mine and oh.
Oh.
This isn't like Kyle's perfunctory pecks or the handful of forgettable kisses I've experienced in my thoroughly boring dating history. This is something else entirely, something that makes every single one of those previous kisses feel like a pale imitation of the real thing.
Caius kisses like he means it. Like I'm not practice, like this is real, like he's been thinking about this as long as I have. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back, and I grab his shirt to keep from floating away.
This is not a fake kiss. This is the kind of kiss that rewrites your entire understanding of what kissing can be.
When he finally pulls back, though it feels more like he forces himself to rather than wants to, we're both breathing hard, our faces still inches apart.
His forehead rests against mine for just a moment, and I can feel his breath coming in uneven bursts that match my own racing heartbeat.
My hands are still fisted in his shirt, knuckles white, like letting go might make me collapse.
"That was..." I start, my voice coming out embarrassingly breathy and unsteady. I don't even know how to finish the sentence. Incredible? Earth-shattering? Everything I've imagined since I was sixteen and stupid enough to think Caius O'Connor might someday look at me like that?
The bay door slams open, and Ryan's voice echoes through the garage. "Caius! You here? I need to borrow your?—"
We spring apart like we've been electrocuted. Caius steps in front of me, blocking Ryan's view, and I press a hand to my mouth, trying to get my breathing under control.
"In the office," Caius calls back, projecting his voice toward the bay door with a steadiness that I genuinely can't fathom given that we were just kissing like our lives depended on it approximately ten seconds ago.
His chest is still rising and falling faster than normal, but somehow his words come out level and casual, like he wasn't just kissing me senseless against his workbench.
"Give me a second. Just finishing up something. "
The 'something' being me, apparently. The girl he's spent years treating like a little sister. The girl whose mouth still tingles from the pressure of his.
Footsteps approach. We have maybe five seconds before my brother walks in and sees us standing weirdly close, my lips swollen, Caius's hair messed up from where I definitely ran my fingers through it.
Caius's eyes lock with mine, and I can practically see the gears turning behind them, his mind racing through possible explanations at lightning speed.
His pupils are still dilated, his chest rising and falling just a bit too quickly to be casual, but when he speaks, his voice is low and controlled, a whisper meant only for my ears.
"Hallie had car trouble," he says quietly, the words coming out measured and deliberate despite the fact that his hand is still hovering near my waist, like he forgot to put it back at his side.
"You came to pick up paperwork for the insurance claim.
That's it." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobs. "Got it?"
I nod mutely, not trusting my voice not to come out as the breathless squeak it wants to be. My fingers are still trembling slightly as I smooth down my cardigan, trying to look like I haven't just been kissed senseless against the filing cabinet.
"What about?—"
Ryan appears in the doorway.