The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

all of it, maybe it was always going to happen. Still—it didn’t
matter. Suddenly, it just didn’t matter, the why of it, the how.
The after. All Olive cared about was that she wanted to, right
now, and that seemed enough to make it all right.
It was all so slow: the step forward she took to come to
stand between his knees, the rise of her hand to his face, the
way her fingers cupped his jaw. Slow enough that he could
have stopped her, he could have pulled out of reach, he could
have said something—and he did not. He simply looked up at
her, his eyes a clear, liquid brown, and Olive’s heart at once
jumped and quieted when he tilted his head and leaned into her
palm.
It didn’t surprise her, how soft his skin was beneath the
night stubble, how much warmer than hers. And when she
bent, for once taller than him, the shape of his lips under hers
was like an old song, familiar and easy. It wasn’t their first
kiss, after all. Though, it was different. Calm and tentative and
precious, Adam’s hand light on her waist as he tilted his chin
up to her, eager and pressing, like this was something he’d
thought of—like he’d been wanting it, too. It wasn’t their first
kiss, but it was the first kiss that was theirs, and Olive savored
it for long moments. The texture, the smell, the closeness. The
slight hitch in Adam’s breath, the odd pauses, the way their
lips had to work a little before finding the right angles and
some form of coordination.
See? She wanted to say, triumphant. To whom, she wasn’t
sure. See? It was always going to be like this. Olive grinned
into his lips. And Adam—
Adam was already shaking his head when she pulled back,
like a no had been waiting in his mouth all along, even as he
returned her kiss. His fingers closed tight around her wrist,
drawing her hand away from his face. “This is not a good
idea.”