He leaned closer, his breath mingling with mine. For a wild, heart-pounding moment, I thought he was going to kiss me—and, perhaps not so surprisingly at this point, I wanted him to. My eyes fluttered closed, anticipating, no, craving the press of his lips against mine.
It was the pregnancy hormones. It had to be the damn pregnancy hormones making me want this—making me want him—so badly that my skin felt like it was on fire wherever he touched me.
But as his lips hovered just above mine, I knew I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him before any kisses occurred, because I knew he would just see me as even more of a traitor if I let him touch me before I dropped the bombshell.
“Isaac,” I said, clearing my throat, “I need to tell you something.”
He pulled back slightly
