The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

venturing into more southern territory, unlike many of the other soldiers around them with their partners.

Jameson was respectful to the level of complete and utter frustration. He hadn’t so much as kissed her—not really, though he’d often move just close enough to spike her heart rate before pressing his lips to her forehead.

“For another fifteen minutes,” she muttered. “Then you have to leave for patrol.”

“And you have work, if I’m not mistaken.”

She sighed, then looked away from the couple next to them as dancing became a fully involved kiss.

“Why haven’t you kissed me?” Scarlett asked him softly.

His rhythm broke for a breath of a second, and he took her chin between his thumb and finger, tilting her face gently toward his. “Yet.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Why haven’t I kissed you yet,” he clarified.

“Don’t play with words.”

“I’m not.” He caressed her lower lip with his thumb. “I’m just making sure you know it’s a yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” All around them, the world changed so fast, she barely knew what to expect in the next minute. Bombs fell and planes crashed, yet he acted like they had years—when she wasn’t sure they even had days.

…

He glanced toward the couple at their left. No wonder she was questioning his less than speedy timing. “Because you’re not just another girl in a pub,” he said as they began to sway again, his hand cupping her face gently. “Because we’ve only been alone once, and kissing you for the first time isn’t something I want to happen in front of an audience.” Not if he kissed her like he wanted to.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Oh.” A slow smile spread across his face. If she knew half the thoughts that went through his head when it came to her, she would have put in for a transfer. “I also know your world has a hell of a lot more rules than mine, so I’m trying my best not to break any of them.”

“Not so many, really.” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, as though she needed to think it over.

“Sweetheart, you’re an actual aristocrat under this uniform.” From what he’d been able to piece together between what little she told him about her family and the details Constance was more than willing to part with, the life Scarlett led as a WAAF officer was so different from her pre-war lifestyle that the two couldn’t be compared.

She blinked. “My parents are.”

He laughed. “And the difference is?”

“Well, I don’t have any brothers, so the title will go into abeyance once my father passes,” she answered with a shrug. “Constance and I are seen as equal under the law, so unless one of us declines the title, neither of us will inherit it. We’ve both decided not to decline, which is rather brilliant when you think about it.” A corner of her mouth lifted in a secretive smile, making him wish they were alone and far from in public.

“You’ve decided to fight for it?” English peerage was so far beyond his area of expertise that he didn’t pretend to understand.

“No.” Her hand slid up his shoulder and over the collar of his uniform until she cupped the back of his neck. He felt her touch in every nerve of his body. “We decided not to fight for it by simply not declining it. Neither of us wants it. Constance is engaged to Edward, who will inherit his own, so our parents are pleased, and I want nothing to do with it.” She shook her head. “We made a vow when we were younger. See?” She lifted her hand, showing a faint line of a scar down her palm. “It was all very dramatic.”

His head tilted slightly as he absorbed her words. “And what do you want, Scarlett?”

The record changed, and the tempo picked up, but they stayed at the same, gentle sway at the edge of the floor, carving out their own little ballad.

“Right now, I want to dance with you,” she answered, stroking her fingers down his neck.

“I can give you that.” Man, it was those eyes that just about knocked him on his ass every time. She could have asked for the moon, and he would have flown his Spitfire into the stratosphere just to get her to look at him like she was right now.

When that song ended, they reluctantly left the floor, holding hands as they approached the table.

“Seven fifteen,” Constance noted with a small grimace. “It’s about time we get going, isn’t it?” She stood and handed Scarlett her hat.

“It is,” Scarlett agreed. “Especially since we’ll need to drop by the airfield for Jameson and Howard.” She turned to Christine, who was still consumed by the newspaper. “Christine?”

She startled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just reading about the bombing in Sussex.”

Well, that certainly sobered the mood. Jameson’s fingers tightened slightly around Scarlett’s. “Well, I guess I’ll drive and you read,” he offered with a tight smile.

Christine nodded, and they all made their way to the car. Tonight, neither he nor Howard had been able to secure their company’s car, but Scarlett had.

“You don’t mind dropping us by the airfield?” he asked as he held the front passenger door open for her.

“Not at all,” she promised, her hand skimming along his waist as she slid into the seat. “It will give me another ten minutes with you, and who knows when I’ll get that again.”

He nodded, then shut the door once she was in, wishing she’d have preferred Constance, Christine, or even Howard drove instead of him so he could have tucked her in tight against him in the back seat. Instead, he took the wheel and began the drive to the airfield. This was always when the mood shifted between them, when they both mentally prepared for what their nights had in store while they’d be apart.

The sun was starting to set earlier now that they were in the middle of August, but he’d still