“I think you’re lovesick,” he says with a curving mouth. My stomach flips. My tongue is tied in at least three knots. I can’t think of a response, so he steps even closer, until our bodies are just barely touching. “You are. Trust me, I know all the signs.” My mouth doesn’t work. I try to form words and let out an unintelligible squeak. He grins and leans in to kiss my temple. His lips pause at my ear, and I shiver so hard I know he feels it. “It’s a condition I’m quite familiar with myself.”
