The Love Story (The Things We Can't Change Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

beside him.
    I test the door and it swings right open. I give Zeke a winning smile. “Look, she left the door unlocked for me. How maternal and sweet of her.”
    Zeke gives a huff of laughter but leans forward, so close our chests are almost touching. One of his long, lean arms reaches past me and pulls the door gently shut. There’s something new, something dark and heavy in his eyes that I can’t name. It sends a hot thrill of anticipation down my spine.
    “I don’t think I ever said thank you,” he begins slowly, whispering the words even though we’re all alone. Only the dim porch light illuminates the dark night around us, creating a cozy glow that makes me feel like we are the only people in the world. “For making me draw again. I know our episode with that, you helping me and everything, didn’t end on the best note this summer. So I want to be sure you know how grateful I am that you kept pushing me. Even when I lashed out at you—figuratively and literally. So, thank you.”
    “You’re welcome,” I say breathlessly. He’s still so close to me, his broad chest so close to mine that I can sense his heart beating in a strong, steady rhythm. One of his legs is just barely touching my left inner thigh, a sturdy weight and careful touch that sends a bolt of lightning straight through me.
    “You were right.” He’s still whispering, bending his head down so he’s even closer to my face, closer to me in every way, entering my personal space. I don’t mind at all. I barely even notice but for the ripples of delight and anticipation it sends through me.
    Zeke continues, “It does help with Cindy, with honoring and missing her, with my mom, dealing with all my feelings. Especially the ones about you.”
    “About me?” My voice is a squeak and I want to kick myself but I’m too distracted by Zeke. By his scent, part cologne, part just overwhelming man, pure masculinity. By the way he’s somehow slowly backed me up so my back is to the door and he’s in front of me, his body pressed up against mine in the most wonderful of ways. By the way his teeth flash in a grin, white and strong, at my words. And how his compelling eyes never leave my own.
    “Yes, you. I don’t think you understand just how long, Evie, I’ve had a thing for your hair.”
    His hand comes up and plays with a curl, finger unconsciously brushing my ear. I have to work hard to control a shudder at the intimate touch. His hand disentangles itself from my hair and he braces his palm against the door next to my head and the other hand comes up to the other side, caging me in.
    Before I can grow uneasy, thinking of how the trapped position reminds me of Tony, Zeke’s head is lowering and then he’s kissing me.
    I forget everything. All and any memories of Tony flee because nothing about this kiss has any similarity to one with Tony.
    Zeke is kissing me softly, gently. His lips are soft against mine, not a bruising force determined to dominate like so many kisses of my past. His lips are smooth and the whole thing is made even more erotic by the fact that he’s not touching me with his hands, our bodies only brushing together.
    He kisses me like that, softly and reverently, for so long that I begin to want more. I’d always thought I would be afraid, have hang ups about kisses or anything sexual, but Zeke’s slow torture is more than I can bear.
    Before I even make a conscious decision or realize what I’m doing, I tilt my head, changing the angle of the kiss. Acting on pure instinct, I bite Zeke’s bottom lip.
    He makes a noise deep in his throat and his hands immediately come away from the door. One goes around my waist and the other plunges into my hair. I sigh with pleasure at the sensation of his big hands finally touching me and the way his hand tugs on my hair. I think of the small secret I’ve kept inside—that I still think of cutting my hair sometimes but know I never can because Zeke likes it so much.
    The hand around my