Renata Silva

“His knee pressed into mine, and heat pooled between my legs. I pressed back. His rough fingertips tentatively touched my knee, slid up until he found my hand. Slowly, I turned my palm up to him, and his thumb drew heavy circles on it for a minute. When I slide it closer, he folded his fingers into mine, and we sat there, holding hands under the table, pretending we weren't. Pretending we weren't acting sixteen years old and a little bit obsessed with each other. God, what was happening? What was I doing and why couldn't I make myself stop? What was he doing? When the check came, Gus jerked back from me and pulled his wallet out. "I got it," he said, without looking at me.”
― Emily Henry, Beach Read