I’m stunned for a split second, before I explode after him. “No fair!” I yell. “You got a head start.”
He glances over his shoulder and flashes me a grin. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“No, you won’t,” I holler, pushing my legs, which used to take me ahead of all the other kids on the playground, which got me middle-distance track medals, the thrill of air burning in my lungs, my muscles working until they were spent and finally able to rest. “Because I’m gonna beat you.”
He laughs. Actually laughs. “Sure you are, Katydid.”
A green light for opposing traffic makes him screech to a halt and makes me stop beside him. I stare up at Christopher, my chest rising and falling heavily, a smile lighting up my face.
“You are so getting burned,” I tell him, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “You weren’t around for my track-and-field days, Petruchio, so you don’t know you’re up against a second place in states for the eight-hundred-meter and first place for the sixteen-hundred-meter races.”
He stares down at me, dark eyes filled with something knowing and warm. “I was there.”
“What?”
He looks up at the light, watching it, waiting for it to turn red. “Just because you didn’t know I was there, doesn’t mean I wasn’t.”
I’m still gaping when he runs through the crosswalk.
“Christopher!” I yell, pumping my arms tight against my body, evening out my stride, then fucking leaning into it.
He glances over his shoulder. His eyes widen as he sees me gaining on him. “Shit!”
“Yeah, you better be scared!”
He laughs like it’s disbelief, turning the corner onto my apartment’s block, making a fatal mistake, swinging wide and losing precious ground. Which is when I lean tight into the corner and pour everything into the last stretch of our race, streaking past him and taking the lead five feet before we make it to my building’s door in a stumbling mess of ragged breaths and hands slapping against the glass.
I laugh deliriously, my back against the door, Christopher’s hands planted on either side of my head.
The fun and laughter of our race dwindle in the silence. The wind stings my cheeks and beats against my thick coat. I watch it plaster Christopher’s jacket against his body, wrenching his hair off his face.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
And he can’t seem to take his eyes off me.
Staring at him, it’s like I’ve lost a layer of my skin, so raw, so keenly aware there’s nothing I can hide, nowhere to escape how much I want him.
I slide my hands up his chest, breathing unsteadily, feeling his chest work like bellows as I search for words I don’t know how to say. For all my bravery and badassery, traveling the world, learning new languages and customs, rules and regulations, finding places, getting lost, learning from mistakes, scraping by, I can’t find my voice or the words I need.
Christopher dips his head, his nose brushing mine. “Tell me what you want, Kate.” His hand cradles my jaw. His thumb traces my lip. “Tell me.”
Maybe it’s the fact that I see it so clearly in his eyes, that I feel it in the faint tremor of his hand, in the rough, uneven gusts of air leaving his lungs. Maybe I’m finally finding my courage not just to fight but to feel. Maybe I’m finally safe to let myself desire and need and say it. Whatever it is, it swirls and builds, a violent, beautiful storm coursing through me, filling my lungs, making me brave.
“I want you.” I breathe the words, staring up at him, my hand over his pounding heart. “And you want me, too.”
“God, yes,” he groans as I reach for him, as he crashes down on me. Our kiss is hard and bruising, rough and perfect. I open my mouth and wind my arms tighter around his neck, while his hands drift down my back, over my ass, then grip my legs, hoisting them around his waist until he’s lifting me up. He slips his hand into my coat pocket, pulling out the key, then clumsily slides it into the lock and yanks open the inner door.
“Hurry,” I beg, tightening my legs around his waist, moving myself shamelessly against him.
“Hurrying.” His mouth grazes my earlobe, my jaw, my throat, as he takes us up the stairs two at a time.
A whimper leaves me as he walks me up to the apartment door and pins me there, breathing harshly, fumbling with the key again and cursing under his breath.
A sound escapes me, half whine, half belly laugh.
Christopher laughs, too, then steals a hard kiss, silencing us both.