you to know that once we’re done with this prep that we’re doing, I’m more than ready to burn it all down.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tasha flashed hot and cold in that endless millennium that she stood there, gazing into Thomas’s gorgeous brown eyes after essentially propositioning him.
She moved over to the counter, and began her assigned task of transferring peanuts from jars to baggies. And, because his silence was killing her, she spoke before he did. “I’m sorry if I’m pushing too hard. I heard what you said about needing time, and I respect that, I really do. I just had to respond to your don’t burn bridges comment so you didn’t think my silence was agreement, but I promise that’s the last time I’ll talk about this. I mean, unless you’re the one who wants to discuss—”
She didn’t see or hear him move, but suddenly he was right beside her, turning her to face him and—
Slamming her into a full body embrace as he kissed her.
Hard.
His mouth against hers, his arms tightly around her—but not too tight against her injured arm, because he was always, always thinking, considering, planning, strategizing.
Protecting.
As Tasha kissed him back, she poured her heart and soul into the breathtaking intimacy of this moment, hoping that he might feel as safe in her arms.
But then, reluctantly, because she wanted to keep on kissing him like this forever, but right now they had things to do, she shifted slightly away from him, and he released her, just a little. Just enough to look down into her eyes.
“You’re really that certain?” he whispered.
“I am.”
He shook his head. “Part of me loves that. But it also scares me a little,” he admitted.
“I’m so absolutely certain, I’d marry you right here and now,” she told him, swiftly adding, “Oh, shit, that sounds so much crazier out loud than it did in my head. It was meant to reassure you, not check off the Yes, you should be scared of me box. For the record, I’m not asking you to marry me or even suggesting that—”
“Thanks, but I know you’re crazy and I’m good with it—and that came out wrong, too.” He winced as he smiled at her. “God, we’re champions. What I meant was, yes, I know that you’re not afraid to say what you feel and sometimes it comes out extra-unfiltered and crazy-ish-sounding, and I’m good with that. I don’t want you to change anything about yourself for me. Not ever, Tash.”
She hugged him tighter, her head tucked in against his chest, desperately wanting to kiss him again, but not wanting to stop him from telling her things that made her heart leap and thrill.
Her cardiac gymnastics weren’t just because she was surprised by his version of the modern-Darcy-ism of I like you and your crazy-pants just as you are, but from knowing that he cared enough to try to explain how he was feeling.
And sure enough, Thomas kept going. “What I really should’ve said was, I’m scaring me, a little. I’m scared about what I could feel for you, if I let myself—and wow, that’s some serious denial right there. Let myself? Could feel? Like I wasn’t in free fall the dead-second you made me do the not-my-sister-not-a-child math.”
She looked up at him, at that, because now her heart was slamming in her chest. Was he saying...?
Thomas pushed her hair back from her face as he looked down into her eyes, his mouth twisting into the slightest of smiles as he let her see his own vulnerability, his uncertainty, his... hope. “You know, that you plus me equals two unrelated, grown-ass adults who love the shit out of each other,” he whispered, “the rest of the world be damned.”
He kissed her again, and Tasha let herself sink into the taste and sensation of his mouth, his tongue, his lips, his arms around her, his body so solid and warm. The swirling timelessness of the moment was delicious and intoxicating, and again she wanted to stay like this forever, but he had a list of things to do, plus she had to ask, “Did you really just say that you love me?”
He laughed a little. “I did, didn’t I? Bonus points for using the extremely romantic word shit in the same sentence.” He was actually embarrassed by that, but there was no fear in his eyes as he met her gaze steadily.
“I have always found Thomas-being-Thomas to be a five-hundred on the romance scale,” Tash whispered. “Which normally only goes to