It felt exactly the way I’d imagined it would, pressed to his side with his body heat flowing into me and his arm strong and tight around my shoulders. I fit against him like a puzzle piece locking into place.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Off Dayton Street, not far from the Kohl Center. I walked.”
“Next time I’ll pick you up.”
My pulse leapt at the idea that there would be a next time.
“And this time,” Dean said, “I’ll drive you home. I’m parked by the museum.”
When we reached the parking lot, he unlocked the door of a black sedan and ushered me inside before getting into the driver’s seat. I told him my address, and we fell silent on the short ride home. The buildings of downtown passed by in a blur of light and shadows.
When he pulled up in front of my apartment, my damned nerves got tense again. I fumbled around collecting my bag and buttoning my coat.
“So, thank you,” I said. “That was really nice.”
“Yes, it was. Thank you too.”
I took hold of the door handle. “I’ll just…”
“Olivia.”
I turned to face him. His eyes glittered in the light of the streetlamps. He reached out slowly, as if he were trying not to startle a kitten, and curled his hand around my wrist.
His touch spiraled heat into my blood, igniting flashes of unbearably intimate thoughts—me in his arms, his lips sliding over my throat, his hands on my bare breasts. The air grew hot, compressed.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Dean said.
My heart crashed against my chest, and a hard tremble swept through me. I parted my lips to draw in a breath.
“I… okay.”
He leaned across the console and lifted his hands to cup my face. His touch was gentle, still cautious, but the heat brewing in his eyes left me in no doubt as to his desire. We were closer than we’d ever been before, so close that I could see the darker ring of brown surrounding his irises.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Then his hands tightened on me as he lowered his mouth to mine. And the world fell away the instant our lips touched.
CHAPTER FIVE
August 22
ix days have passed since I mentioned the idea of having a baby. A million thoughts are flying and twisting through my mind, but they don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve never been one for discussing personal details with my few girlfriends, and my mother would dispense lousy advice, even if I did know where she was. Not that I’d ever tell her anything either.
What sucks is that the one person I really want to have a conversation with—the man I’ve always been able to talk to about anything—is unapproachable right now. When he’s even home. He’s not outwardly cold or forbidding, but I sense his reluctance to discuss it further. And truth be told, I’m not all that eager to have a repeat of our previous conversation anyway.
Plus, that question (“Because you’re looking for something to do?”) is still running through my mind like a looped tape.
At breakfast, we stick to safe subjects like a news story about an art forgery that we’ve both been following, Dean’s upcoming semester, and my new job at the bookstore.
“Did Kelsey tell you about the banquet?” I ask after refilling our coffee.
“The one on Saturday?” Dean asks, as if he’s got a dozen banquets lined up. “Yeah. She said you don’t mind if I go. Of course, she didn’t ask if I mind if I go.”
He sounds a little affronted, which makes me smile. He doesn’t care for academic socializing, but he’s good at it and he’d do anything for Kelsey.
“At least now she’ll owe you one,” I remark.
Dean grunts into his coffee and flips a page of the newspaper. I focus on my own section of the paper, but the lines blur before my eyes.
The sudden distance between us is unsettling. Dean and I have always made each other feel good physically, and the fact that almost a week has passed without one of us making a move is… unusual.
I stretch my leg beneath the table and run my foot up to his inner thigh. He glances at me. I wiggle my toes against his crotch.
“Time before work?” I ask.
“Sorry.” He closes the paper. “Couple of meetings this morning.”
“Too bad.” I stare down at my coffee.
“Yeah.” He glances at the clock, then leans across the table to kiss my forehead. “I’ve gotta go to work. I’ll see you later.”
After he leaves, I sit at the table for a few more minutes. I wonder if he’s now worried that I’ll get all upset if he reaches for a condom when we have sex.
I go to put my cup in the sink. Okay, so I didn’t handle that whole “stopping birth control” conversation well at all. But I also don’t quite understand Dean’s evident relief over the negative pregnancy test. Wasn’t he the tiniest bit disappointed?