Page 82 of Naughty November

“Why do you think you can’t have me?”

“The app. We had to agree that?—”

“Screw the app.” He closes the distance between us, drags me to him, raises onto his tiptoes and slams his mouth over mine.

I melt into the kiss, bending my knees to make it easier for him to dominate it. And, fuck, does he dominate it. It’s commanding and demanding, but oh, so tender. Static swirls around us. Every nerve in my body tingles. My mind races with all the things I want to do with him, the things I want him to do to me.

His breathing is harsh as he breaks the kiss, holds my face, and rests his forehead against mine.

“Why can’t I get over you? Why can’t I stop wanting you?” I whisper.

“I don’t know, but I feel the same.” He nips my bottom lip between my teeth, not hard enough to hurt.

“What are we doing?”

“Unpausing. If you want to.”

“I want.”

He steps back and pushes my jumper sleeve up, revealing my tanned arm. “You’re going to lose that tan over a British winter.”

I chuckle. “I don’t mind.”

He stares into my eyes. “May I?”

I shiver and nod. I keep my gaze focused on him rather than whatever he’s scratching onto my arm. My skin tingles, but I don’t look until I’m sure it’s had enough time to react. When I do, I expect to see a Play button. My chin quivers, and my chest tightens. He hasn’t drawn a Play button. He’s drawn a heart with our initials inside, just like he did the day I left the UK.

“Devin.” I’m too overwhelmed to say anything else.

He strokes his thumb over my hyperreactive skin. “I have to work later, but that’s not for a few hours. Stay for dinner. We can catch up.”

“I’d love to.”

THREE

DEVIN

After dinner, we sit knee to knee on the sofa. Jools removes his red jumper, revealing a tight-fitting black T-shirt. His eyes appear lighter and brighter beside the dark fabric. I can’t stop staring at his eyes or his lips as he talks. He’s animated and bubbly, exactly as I remember. His cheeks flush red whenever he thinks he’s talking too much. He always was the chatty one. It was one of the things that drew me to him when we walked to school together as kids.

“I still don’t understand how you learnt two languages so quickly,” I say.

We’ve circled back around to talking about work.

Jools shrugs. “Define quickly.”

“You started learning Japanese at sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“And now, nine years later, you’re fluent in thatandKorean?”

He laughs. “Nine years is a long time.”

I sober. “Too long.”

“Agreed.”

“Why Korean?”