“Was it that bad?” I asked in a whisper. “To admit that?”
“Morena …”
“Say it again.” I lowered my face to his, but held it an inch from his. He straightened, trying to touch his lips to mine, but I retreated a bit. “If you mean it, say it again.”
His intense gaze took my breath away. “No. I’ll do better.” He slid his hands from my waist to my shoulder blades, and he pulled me down, against his chest. I gasped. The movement brought my face lower, and he brushed his lips on mine. A shuddering breath escaped my mouth. Then he pulled back a little and stared into my eyes. “I love you.”
I froze.
What? I gawked at him, and he watched me with half a smile.
From the pocket of his hoodie, he fished a purple Douglas Iris out and placed it over my ear, like he always did. He had that flower the
