Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I want to laugh, but it catches in my throat because her eyes are on me, expectant. “After this? Maybe a walk. Maybe I’ll kiss you again. Maybe both.”
She lets the words hang, a smile curling at the edge of her lips. “That all sounds great to me.”
I lean in, testing the waters. She doesn’t move away, so I press my lips to hers, gentle at first, then a little deeper. She tastes like sugar and sunshine, and for a second, nothing else in the world exists. I slide my hand to the back of her neck, holding her there, and she melts into me, kissing me back with a hunger that’s all heat and zero hesitation.
When we finally break apart, she’s breathless, cheeks flushed.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she says, voice shaky.
“I know how you feel,” I say. “Since the first moment you ran into me, I’ve felt like the cartoon character with little birds flying around its head.”
She tilts her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “It seems like we’re in the same boat.”
“Don’t worry, gorgeous girl. We’ll figure it out together.”
We don’t talk for a while after that. We just lie back on the blanket, her head on my chest, fingers tangled together, watching the clouds drift past. The rest of the world disappears. There’s only the warmth of her body pressed into mine, and the steady thump of her heart as I run my hand lightly across her back.
Eventually, she breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?”
I look down at her, memorize the curve of her nose, the wild tangle of her curls, the way she fits perfectly against me. “I’m thinking about how lucky I am. And how I’m never letting you go.”
She hums, happy, then sets her chin on my chest and stares into my eyes. “Wow. Things are moving fast.”
“Not fast enough for me,” I return.
She laughs, low and a little breathless, but there’s this shadow flickering behind her sunglasses. Like she’s bracing for a runaway train and I’m the motherfucking engineer.
I want to lay it out. All of it. So she knows exactly where I stand.
“Hazel.” I cup her cheek, thumb skimming over the curve of her jaw. God, she’s soft. “I knew you were it for me the second you crashed into me in the lobby. I’ve been out of my mind for you ever since.” She lets out a little laugh, but her lips tremble. “If you need slow, we’ll go slower,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to hers. “But I’m not letting you go. Ever. You belong with me, Hazel. I’m all in.”
She stares at me for a very long time, and I start to worry that I’m moving way the fuck too fast, but she shocks me. “I’m crazy about you, too.” I finally release the breath I’ve been holding. “But I’d like to slow things down just a little bit. Maybe we can date a little bit before we pick out china and linens?”
The caveman half of me wants me to throw her little ass over my shoulder and run for the hills, while the more levelheaded side knows I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure my girl is happy. Even if it means taking things slower. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HAZEL
For the next few weeks, I live in the state of extreme emotional whiplash only achievable by being blissfully happy and mildly terrified at the same time. Preston Voss becomes a fixture in my life so fast it’s like he’s always been there—a gravitational constant in an otherwise unpredictable universe.
We see each other every day. Sometimes, it’s just coffee at Gobble Me Up, where he orders a White Chocolate Mocha for me and dark roast coffee for himself before I even arrive. Sometimes, it’s a run-in at the gym, where I make a dramatic show of not watching him bench press a small car while I pretend to read on the treadmill. He takes me to breakfast on Saturdays, trivia night on Thursdays, and does Sushi Tuesday with Nonnie and me every week.
It should feel like too much since we’re basically moving at the speed of light. But if I’m honest, none of it feels forced. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. When we’re together, the background static in my brain quiets down. I find myself smiling for no reason, humming as I walk to work, and waking up each morning with a pulse of anticipation in my chest.
But then, at the end of every perfect day, the old doubts start doing laps around my frontal lobe. What if this is just the honeymoon period? What if I’m missing something? What if, one day, I wake up and all this just… disappears?
By week three, I know I’m so in love with Preston, I can’t see straight.