Slow Burn
“He pulled her down on his lap.
For the next ten minutes he didn’t say a word to her. He simply wrapped his arms around her, occasionally patted her awkwardly, and let her soak his shirt.
Once the tears stopped, the hiccups started. Her head was down on his good shoulder, her mouth pressed against the side of his throat. She told herself to get a grip and move away from him.
“Dylan?”
He smiled against her. “Yeah?”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Tell what?”
Dylan lazily picked up a strand of her hair and let it slowly slide over his hand. Her hair smelled like apricots. She was so warm and feminine, and he was very aware that the only thing between his hands and her body were a flimsy T-shirt and shorts.
Don’t think about it. Yeah, right. Telling himself not to think about it made it all the more impossible not to think about it.
“Don’t worry. I don’t kiss and tell.” He grimaced. His voice was hoarse and a little gruff.
“I haven’t kissed you . . . yet.”
He needed to regain control of the situation .
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