Page 32 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
I say nothing because my throat hitches when I breathe in that aftershave. I shift my nose slightly, a thief nicking one more hit of that delicious scent.
With his arms around me, my mind races with after-dark possibilities. Bet he does too, because he murmurs something—something unintelligible. His incoherence makes the moment even sexier.
When TJ lets go, he’s slow and purposeful, his hands sliding down my arms.
Or is that wishful thinking? My eyes drift to his hands to verify. But everything feels warm and hazy, and I don’t know if he’s touching me deliberately or just letting go slowly.
All I know is my insides are melting.
When he breaks the hold, he says in a rough voice, “Do you want to rehearse again? This weekend?”
“Yes. I do. How’s Sunday?”
“Perfect.”
Then, he smooths a hand over my shoulder. I blink, trying to figure out what he’s doing.
“You just had a piece of something on your shirt,” he says, with a lazy shrug.
“I did?”
His eyes darken as he stares at my lips, then glances back up. “I just wanted to get it off.”
“Did you? Get it off?”
TJ shakes his head. “I don’t think so actually.”
“Better try again,” I say, inviting him to touch me once more.
He brushes a hand over my shoulder, and it’s maddening how good that feels. When his palm skims over me, my whole body vibrates.
“I think I got it,” he says, all husky.
“Well, I don’t know if you did,” I whisper, mesmerized by his touch.
“You’re right. I think I missed something here.” He lifts that hand, brushing his fingers over my hair.
Sparks burst inside me. I haul in a gasp.
For long seconds, we stare at each other. I’m caught in the heat of his gaze, the way we subtly angle our heads to lean in for a kiss.
But the bell over the door tinkles, and I wrench away. I’m pained by the separation but grateful for it too. I was this close to demanding greedy, hungry kisses.
A woman in a red dress walks in. A young girl wearing a tutu skips beside her.
“I should . . .” I begin, my voice hoarse.
“And I should get these books,” TJ says, sounding the same.
I head to the woman and child, letting them know I can help them if they need anything. I hope I don’t bear the tell-tale signs of an almost kiss, but I suspect my face is flushed.
I return to the counter as TJ arrives, several mysteries in hand, and a London guidebook too. I ring him up, and he says goodbye.
When the store’s quiet again, I still haven’t come down from the contact high, so I send him a text. I need to know something. I just do.
Jude:Was that a new shirt you wore tonight?
TJ:No. I’ve had it for a while. I haven’t shopped yet. I’m saving myself for you.