Though there was no need for him to continue touching her, he didn’t remove his hand.
Deanna stared up at him, feeling her internal temperature rise. And then he did something she didn’t expect. He lowered his hand to her waist, then put his other hand on the other side of her waist. Deanna didn’t need the jacket to keep warm. Not at all . . . "I never forgot about you," Eric said in a low, throaty voice.
Dusk had turned to dark since they’d arrived for dinner, and the streetlights provided the only illumination as they stood on the sidewalk. But Deanna wouldn't have needed that to see the heat swirling in Eric’s eyes. "I . . ." She didn’t know what to say. This moment was surreal. Certainly one she’d never expected to experience. Not after she had run from Cleveland and left everyone and everything here in the rearview mirror.
“But truly,” Eric went on, “this is what I thought about. Wondered about. Wished I’d gotten the chance to do.” “Hmm?” Deanna asked, not understanding. But a moment later, Eric’s comment became crystal clear when he placed a finger beneath her chin, tilted her head upward to his, brought his mouth down onto hers, and kissed her.