He didn’t want to jump into bed with her—okay, that wasn’t true. He definitely wanted to be all over a bed with her, but he wanted to wait. He wanted her to know it meant something to him, because he knew that she had heard of his reputation. Taking things seriously with women had never been his forte, but he wanted that now.

With her, and only her.

“Why me, Rory?” She breathed quietly as they pulled apart, staring into each other’s eyes.

Her cheeks were flushed and her nose was rosy from the cold, but he was focusing on her eyes. Fear passed through them and it unsettled him; he wanted to wipe it away, but he felt paralyzed instead. He felt the same fear inside of him that was written all over her face, fear that she would up and leave him at any moment. Fear that he had finally chosen someone to commit to, no doubt in his mind, except that she might not make the same choice.

“You’re beautiful in every way, Clare. Why not you?” He kissed her forehead and pulled away, starting to stroll hand in hand again.

“There are plenty of pretty girls around here.”

“Woodlawn is pretty small. Maybe I’ve already been with all the other pretty girls.” Oh, that was dumb. Shouldn’t have said that.

His worries were confirmed when he saw Clare’s jaw drop, and she paused in her step, staring him down. She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. He couldn’t help but find the fury bubbling up in her face comical for such a small woman. His initial thought was right, though; he probably shouldn’t have reminded her of his past like that. Idiot.

“Seriously?”

“Clare, I’m kidding.”

“How do I know that?” She suddenly started moving again, more briskly, and she pushed past him.

He watched for a moment, confirming to himself this hadn’t been the right moment to provoke her with that joke. However, her reaction intrigued him. He had no interest in flirting with or dating anyone else, and he was wondering if his fears were unfounded. Maybe she did feel the same way as he did.

“Why do you care?” He jogged to catch up to her, quickly coming alongside her again as curiosity got the better of him.

“I don’t.”

“Could it be that my mhuirnín is jealous? Of imaginary women?” Rory teased her, trying not to sound as hopeful as he felt, while he pulled her hand into his once more.

He saw uncertainty cross her face as she clearly thought about untangling her fingers from his, but she couldn’t seem to convince her body to follow through. He was glad because her hand was warm and inviting, making his entire body relax at the simple contact. She was better than any drink or pain medication; just her touch was able to soothe him.

“I can’t be jealous of someone I don’t know. And we don’t really know each other. We’re no more than acquaintances at most.”

“You think so?” He stopped as they reached an intersection and he pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the back gently. They were not merely acquaintances; at least he certainly didn’t feel that way about her. If the look in her eyes right now was any indicator, then she didn’t, either.

“This acquaintance knows that you love animals, maybe even more than people. You wish you had a pet, but you’re waiting until you have a home to give one. You want to be a vet, but you’re working toward saving for the tuition first.” He started listing things as she stared at her hand in his, near his lips.

“Everyone knows that stuff.”

“You also grew up in California, but you’re starting to love New York more. Maybe you were always meant to be here. You don’t have any family left, but you crave it. I see the way you look at my family, envying their dynamic. You always smell like vanilla, although you don’t wear perfume. Your cocktails are pretty weak and I’m guessing you lied on your résumé about being a bartender before.” He continued until he finished his list, beaming proudly as she narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she scoffed, but he ignored her protest and placed her palm on his chest above his heart with both of his hands over hers. He wanted her to feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers, to know that nothing about him was unfamiliar. He didn’t know how to tell her or how to describe their dynamic more clearly than he already was, but he knew that the pulse of his heart would reveal more than words could.

“I know you want to walk home by yourself from work to prove you’re independent, but secretly you love that I join you; and if one day I wasn’t there to meet you, you would miss me. I know you’re hiding things you think make you unlovable, pushing people away to keep them from getting too close, to keep from giving them the chance to hurt you.”

A lone tear was beginning to brim over her bottom lashes. Her body was completely betraying her, telling him that she agreed with everything he was saying. He felt his heart quicken, and he lowered his voice, speaking more softly to her.

“But more than any of that, I know that if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m positive my entire body will explode.” Without a doubt in his mind, he knew he had to have her right then. They had kissed several times before, even tonight. But he needed something different: He needed to tell her how he felt in a single act. And that terrified him.

He didn’t want to just kiss her; he wanted to possess her, to overtake every part of her with his lips and let her taste his words, know how true they were. She swayed slightly, her body quivering gently at his words. He steadied her with one hand, grabbing her waist and sliding his hand around her back with his other. He pulled her flush against him, his head leaning down only inches from her lips.

“Clare?” His voice was deep and husky, but a whisper.

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She stared at his lips before licking her own in anticipation. The sight almost undid him right then and there. He wanted to devour every inch of her in the middle of this New York sidewalk.

But he waited. He held back, tensing his entire body in an attempt to restrain himself. He needed her to want this just as much as he did. He needed to know she felt the same way.

“I need you to tell me what you want, Clare.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and he could tell he had surprised her with his request.

“Rory…” She shuddered out his name in a breathy tone.

“Yes, mhuirnín?”

“Kiss me.” She kept her eyes on his, not faltering or even blinking as they stared at each other.

He didn’t waste a moment finding her lips with his, crashing down on her fiercely. Her hands slid up around his neck, wrapping herself around him and leaning up on the tips of her toes to meet him. His hand on her lower back was pulling her fervently against him, while the other was on the back of her neck, guiding her.

After a few moments, he disconnected their bodies before finally pulling away from her mouth. She blinked a few times and then peered up at him, a shy smile on her swollen lips. He would never get tired of that smile.

“So, Clare, are we still acquaintances?” he asked, his arms still around her, her lips an enticing inch or two from his.

“God, you’re so arrogant.” She rolled her eyes at him, but a smirk stole its way onto her lips.

He leaned down and buried his face in her neck, kissing her skin gently at first, then nipping it playfully. He breathed in, causing her skin to dimple into goosebumps as she giggled and pushed him away.

“Ah, vanilla.”

“You’re sniffing me now?” She began to cross the street, nudging him.

“I’m an overstepping acquaintance. I have no boundaries.” He grabbed her hand again and sniffed her loudly in an exaggerated motion, causing more laughter to erupt from her tiny frame.

“I loved watching you tonight,” she told him.