He nods, taking another step. He’s almost touching me now. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. His rock-hard chest muscles are right there, tempting me to reach out, to press my hand against them.
“I think that’s a perfect word,” he snarls. “But don’t you want to tame it?”
“What, the garden?”
He chuckles gruffly. “What else?”
“Well…uh, that’s not really our job since this is an Air BnB.”
Our eyes meet, and his smirk widens.
I laugh, but it’s more like noise to let out tension. There’s nothing funny about this.
Everything feels significant, like it matters, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what falling in love feels like.
Idiot, I scream in my mind.
Falling in love?
We’re staring at each other, nothing else. And sure, he’s getting even closer. And sure, it looks like he might kiss me.
But then he pauses, his face bare inches from mine.
“What do you do, June?”
I flinch at the use of my best friend’s name, the name I stole. How long until he finds out who I really am?
“I study photography,” I murmur. “One day, I want to work as a photographer. Maybe traveling or for weddings. Anything, really. I love it. I love everything about it.”
“I can tell,” he says seriously. “You’re going to do very well.”
I shake my head, stunned when he moves even closer.
Our lips are almost touching now.
“How could you possibly know that?” I ask.
I feel his breath against me when he laughs, warm and welcome. My mind fires hotly with the notion of him kissing me. My legs feel like they’re going to start trembling, my skin tingly, nerves buzzing up and down me.
“Your passion,” he snarls. “I can tell how badly you want it.”
“I do,” I whimper, wondering if he knows I’m not just talking about taking pictures.
“How badly?” he snarls, reaching out and grabbing onto my arm.
I gasp as he squeezes.
It’s not hard, but it’s not soft either. I can feel the strength in his touch. He wants to let me know how strong he is and how much power he has over me.
He leans down, his lips moving toward mine.
My whole freaking being is shattering over and over as if trying to comprehend this moment that is too much to handle. I can’t believe he’s doing it.
He’s going to kiss me.
I can’t believe he wants to kiss me, but then his lips are so close to mine, almost brushing.
“Becca,” Alex calls from behind the private section of the garden.