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him, urging me closer. An instinct pushed me toward one of the doors, and I beat the living
daylights out of it.
After a few moments, he opened it, brown eyes widening when he saw me.
"Rose?”
"Let me in. It's Lissa.”
He immediately stepped aside for me. I'd apparently caught him in bed, because the covers
were peeled back on one side and only a small tableside lamp shone in the darkness. Plus, he
wore only cotton pajama bottoms; his chest— which I'd never seen before, and wow, did it look
great—was bare. The ends of his dark hair curled near his chin and appeared damp, like he'd
taken a shower not so long ago.
"What's wrong?”
The sound of his voice thrilled me, and I couldn't answer. I couldn't stop staring at him. The
force that had pulled me up here pulled me to him. I wanted him to touch me so badly, so badly
I could barely stand it. He was so amazing. So unbelievably gorgeous. I knew somewhere
something was wrong, but it didn't seem important. Not when I was with him.
With almost a foot separating us, there was no way I could easily kiss his lips without his help.
So instead, I aimed for his chest, wanting to taste that warm, smooth skin.
"Rose!" he exclaimed, stepping back. "What are you doing?”
"What do you think?”
I moved toward him again, needing to touch him and kiss him and do so many other things.
"Are you drunk?" he asked, holding his hand out in a warding gesture.
"Don't I wish." I tried to dodge around him, then paused, momentarily uncertain. "I thought you
wanted to—don't you think I'm pretty?" In all the time we'd known each other, in all the time
this attraction had built, he'd never told me I was pretty. He'd hinted at it, but that wasn't the