Элизабет Чандлер: The Deep End of Fear

"I probably can if I don't look at you."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Sorry. That was funny. Okay" — despite an effort not to, he was still laughing-"what's the problem?"

"I'm in love with you.".

His laughter stopped. When the silence became unbearable, I glanced up at him. "You look-you look stunned. I'll get over it," I added quickly. "You know when I put my mind to something, I do it. I will get over it, Sam."

"But I won't," he said.

"Sorry?"

"I won't… I can't. I've tried-it's impossible." He reached for my face and held it in his hands.

So that's how it feels, I thought.

"I love you, Kate."

I don't think I breathed.

"I have from the very beginning," he said. "Well, maybe not that moment when you nearly destroyed my car."

"Nearly destroyed! I didn't touch it."

He laughed and ran his thumb softly across my mouth. How did he do that, make me feel his touch like heat beneath my skin-make me feel it everywhere even when he brushed only my lips.

"You can't have any idea how much I want to kiss you," he said.

"Maybe-maybe I do. Why don't you try and see?"

His mouth touched mine, lightly, carefully-too lightly and carefully-so I took over and kissed him.

"Maybe you do!" he agreed, when we had caught our breath again.