Point of No Return Read Online Free PDF

when I looked at him. He took a mouthful of rice, and I was transfixed by the fork between his lips. He smiled as he chewed and swallowed. "Are you gonna eat it, or just watch me eat mine?" he asked, clearly amused.
    Embarrassed, I shook my head and quickly shoved a forkful into my mouth. And oh my God, it was so fucking good.
    I groaned.
    He smiled.
    "This is really good," I told him with a mouthful of food.
    "You sound surprised," he laughed.
    I swallowed and amended quickly, "Oh, no. I just meant this is better than a restaurant could do."
    He smiled as he ate. "Family recipe."
    "Spanish?" I'd wondered about his heritage, whether he was more Asian or European.
    He nodded. "My dad's Spanish, my mom's
    Japanese. I figured I'd play safe with paella instead of sashimi."
    I think he was joking. It was kind of hard to tell, he smiled all the time. I smiled back at him. "I like sashimi,

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    too," I told him as I scooped up another forkful of rice.
    "But this is divine."
    He smiled proudly. "I'm glad you like it."
    We stared at each other then, and neither one of us spoke. I just looked at him. His dark, smiling eyes, his perfect eyes, his perfect lips…
    His perfect, split, swollen lip.
    "I'm sorry about your lip."
    His hand automatically touched his mouth, and he smiled. "I'm not."
    I raised my eyebrows in question, and he laughed.
    "I got you to agree to dinner with me."
    I chuckled and gave him a nod. "That you did."
    He smiled again, picked up his beer bottle and clinked it to mine. "To split lips and dinner dates."
    I couldn't help but smile as I tapped my bottle to his.
    Kira smiled and started talking about how he got into fitness, how he'd traveled, and how he got started working at the gym. I found myself enthralled by his story, his voice, and the way his neck muscles moved under the collar of his shirt. Then I noticed, a little late, that he'd stopped talking.
    I'd been caught staring again.
    He lifted his eyebrows and smiled.

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    Embarrassed, I huffed out a breath, and I could feel heat creep over my cheeks. Jesus. I shook my head and looked down to the table. Figuring I could use the distraction, I started to clean up.
    "Leave it," he said.
    "You cooked, I clean," I told him. "Fair's fair."
    I put the dirty plates in the sink and turned the water on as I looked through the cupboard under the sink for the detergent. When I found it, I looked up, and he was watching me. He smiled at me, and without a word, picked up a dish towel, and started to dry.
    He was right beside me. I could feel the heat of his body. I could smell his cologne, his deodorant, his scent . I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, but by the time I was done and wiped down the sink, I knew this was it.
    I knew if he touched me or kissed me, I'd have crossed the work/personal life boundary with him. I'd be risking my comfortable, albeit closeted, life.
    I could have quite easily thanked him for dinner and made an excuse to leave.
    But I didn't want to.
    When I looked at him, he gave me a shy smile…
    God, those fucking lips.

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    I turned back to the sink, trying to get myself together. His voice startled me. "If you want to leave, just say so."
    I turned and looked at him. My heart was
    hammering, my mouth was dry, and I had to swallow so I could speak. "I don't want to leave."
    He stepped closer to me and reached his hand up to the side of my face. "I don't want you to go," he said quietly. And oh-so-fucking slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.
    I couldn't move.
    I couldn't breathe.
    His lips moved against mine, just a fraction, and then he pulled away.
    There was hurt and confusion in his eyes. He
    thought I didn't want this. "Don't you…?"
    "Too much," I said without thinking. "I want this too much."
    Then my hands were on his face, around his neck, and I kissed him.
    Oh, fuck… how I kissed him.
    My lips opened his, and my