The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

scent that jolted her alert—soap and something dark, subtle
but oh so familiar. Her brain had him mapped out, stored away
across all senses. Eyes to his almost smile, hands to his skin,
the smell of him in her nostrils. She didn’t even need to think
about what to do, just push up on her toes, press her fingers
against his biceps, and kiss him gently on the cheek. His skin
was soft and warm and a little prickly; unexpected, but not
unwelcome.
An apt goodbye, she thought. Appropriate. Acceptable.
And so was his hand coming up to her lower back, pulling
her into his body and stopping her from sliding back on her
heels, or the way his head turned, until her lips were not
brushing the skin of his cheek anymore. Her breath hitched, a
chuff against the corner of his mouth, and for a few precious
seconds she just savored it, the deep pleasure that ran through
them both as they closed their eyes and let themselves just be,
here, with each other.
Quiet. Still. One last moment.
Then Olive opened her mouth and turned her head,
breathing against his lips, “Please.”
Adam groaned deep in his chest. But she was the one who
closed the space between them, who deepened the kiss, who
combed her hands into his hair, short nails scraping against his
scalp. She was the one who pulled him even closer, and he was
the one who pushed her back against the wall and moaned into
her mouth.
It was frightening. Frightening, how good this felt. How
easy it would be to never stop. To let time stretch and unbend,
forget about everything else, and simply stay in this moment
forever.
But Adam pulled back first, holding her eyes as he tried to
collect himself.