“You love that about me.”
“Seattle,” she agreed.
Leo took the final step. He was close enough now that Jeanine could smell the rain on his jacket, the coffee on his breath, the faint cedar of his soap. He didn’t touch her, but his presence was a warmth she could lean into. midnight kisses jeanine benedict
The sound of a key turning in the lock made her pulse skip. She didn’t turn around. She listened to the familiar rhythm of footsteps—one heavier than the other because of the old knee injury from a high school soccer game she hadn’t even been at (a story she’d heard so many times she could recite it in her sleep).
Midnight.
“Name it.”
When they finally broke apart, breathless and laughing, Leo pressed his forehead to hers again. “You love that about me
“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” came the voice—low, warm, with a laugh tucked into the edges like a secret.