She gave him a look. “I have a spare toothbrush, if you want it. You could also just go home. However, I thought I might make you breakfast, to say thank you for dinner.”
That took his attention away from her legs, which was no mean feat. “You want to make me breakfast?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. If you like eggs and toast, I am more than capable.”
“No, I just—” He just wasn’t used to women doing things for him. He did things for them, and that was it. That was how it worked. He ran a hand through his hair and realized that, apparently, that wasn’t how it worked anymore. “All right. I like eggs. Thanks.”
He found the spare toothbrush. Her bathroom shelf was full of products that matched: she bought the same brand and scent of shampoo and conditioner, body wash and moisturizer, because of course she did. She liked flowers, and strawberries. He added that carefully to the list of things he knew about Chloe Brown, a list that was longer than he’d ever expected it to be, but still not long enough. Maybe it would never be long enough.
Still, it was satisfying, as the morning went on, to add to that list again and again. First, it was Chloe makes great scrambled eggs. Then it was It feels good to wash dishes while Chloe dries. Finally he realized: Starting my day with Chloe feels like starting my day in front of a canvas.
When they finished washing up, Red had a smile on his face that he already knew would last until he went to bed that night. Then, all at once, he turned left, Chloe turned right, and they both moved at exactly the wrong time. Or maybe it was exactly the right time. It felt right, when she stumbled into him. It felt right, gripping her waist to steady her. It felt right, her hands pressing against his chest.
So right he didn’t move away.
She must be able to feel his heart pounding. He was surprised it wasn’t visible through his clothes. She tilted her head back to look at him, her lips parted. Was this how she’d look, just before he kissed her? He wanted to add that knowledge to the list.
She said, her voice still a little hoarse, “Sorry. Gosh, sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” But she didn’t move, either.
His hands tightened at her waist for a moment before he forced himself to relax. It was a long, slow process, loosening every tense muscle in his body, reminding the unthinking part of himself that he couldn’t just put his mouth on hers. He meant to let go of her completely, meant to step back, meant to say something.
He only managed the last of those goals. And what he said wasn’t exactly sensible. In fact, he didn’t know how it sneaked past security to roll off his tongue. “Do you know what I want yet, Chlo?”
At his rough whisper, she froze. She hadn’t exactly been moving before, but now everything about her was unnaturally still, as if she wasn’t even breathing.
He closed his eyes and cursed himself. Too much. Too—
“Yes,” she said softly. “I do. And I think I’m scared.”
When he opened his eyes, she was dragging her teeth over her lower lip, her frown agonized. The expression on her face practically ripped his heart open. He swallowed. Kept pushing, because screw it. “Why? Do you think I’d hurt you?” He didn’t add, Like everyone else.
She seemed to hear the words anyway. “Maybe.” Her frown deepened and she shook her head irritably. Against his chest, her hands curled into fists, fingers tangling in his T-shirt. “No. Yes. I just—I’m always afraid that . . .” She looked up at him, realization dawning on her face. “Red. I think I’m being a coward.”
“There’s a big difference between being a coward and putting your emotional safety first,” he said. He knew all about that.
Then again, so did she. She was nodding slowly, but her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “There is a difference. I look out for my own safety all the time. Constantly. That’s not what this is. The urge I have to avoid this,” she murmured, almost to herself, “it’s like . . . it’s like going to bed at nine sharp every night. Like refusing to make plans, even with my sisters. Like staying inside for a year because I don’t think I can handle catching a cold.”
He blinked, distracted for a second. “You did that?”
Her smile was a quicksilver flash. “The first few years were not good, Red. I was not good. This list isn’t the first challenge I’ve had to set myself.” She wet her lips, her eyes drifting away from his face as she sank into her thoughts. “But I always succeed. One way or another. I always take the next step, no matter how long it takes.”
“Of course you do,” he whispered. “You’re a tough motherfucker, remember?”
She looked up at him again, her smile wider this time, more certain, like it was going nowhere. Her eyes glittered with something that made his heart feel light in his chest. “That’s true. I am. And I want . . . you. All of you. I haven’t done this sort of thing in a while, you know. But I’d like to try. Would you?” Her gaze, dark and serious, felt like a weight—the satisfying kind, the weight of expectation that meant someone might, almost, trust you not to fuck up. His whole body went rigid with anticipation, the kind of oh-shit giddy nervousness he usually felt before an exhibit.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Chloe. Yes.”
She smiled. And then she kissed him.
It was the slightest brush of her lips over his, once, twice, three times. So soft, so gentle, his heart ached. He held his breath and closed his eyes and bent down for her, so she wouldn’t hurt herself. His fingers sank into the lush curves of her hips for one desperate moment before he forced himself to relax, to not maul her like a caveman. At least, not until she asked him to.
Her fingers fluttered at his jaw, like she wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure how to do it right. He wanted to tell her that any way she touched him would be right, but he’d rather step on a rusty fucking nail than break this barely-there kiss. Her lips brushed his again and the sensation seared through him like a shooting star, the kind that streaked the sky for long moments after it had passed. She tasted like minty toothpaste, sharp-tongued sarcasm, surprising hesitance. She was killing him. She was absolutely killing him.