“Look up, Wil.”

Instead, he rubbed his hands down the sides of his thighs, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Just like that. At full speed. Like he didn’t even want or expect me to keep up.

I had to run to catch up to him, and by that time we were on a narrow sidewalk along a busy avenue. I stuck to his heels as we crossed the river and cut over into the theater parking lot.

He sped up once we reached the lot as if avoiding the possibility of me walking next to him. Heaven forbid that happen. “William Drake. Stop right now!”

He stopped but didn’t turn around.

I caught up with him and moved into his line of sight. “Well?” I said.

“Well, what?”

“What the hell was that? Why did you storm off?”

“Because I didn’t want to say anything rude, and you made me angry.”

“Because I asked you to look me in the eye?”

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe I’m just tired of you looking everywhere but my eyes.”

He blinked. “It’s difficult.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “Because when I’m looking in your eyes, I’m too distracted to hear what you are saying. It’s intense.”

“What’s intense? I mean, I know I’m beautiful, but…” I joked in an effort to lighten the mood.

“Yes. You are beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I sucked in a breath. Wow. He’d said it in a matter-of-fact tone as if stating that the sky was undeniably blue. There was no art to the words, no obvious attempt at flattery. Why was my throat closing up like this?

“I was joking.” I laughed self-consciously. “I’m not really that full of myself.”

“I don’t know what that means. But you shouldn’t joke about being beautiful. It’s not a joke.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and waited.

I felt both uncomfortable and pleased at the same time. My cheeks were flaming hot and—ironically—I couldn’t meet his gaze even if he wanted me to.

“I didn’t realize,” I suddenly blurted, my voice trembling with regret.

“What?”

“That it was so hard for you to look in my eyes. I thought that was a myth. I don’t spend a lot of time around autistic people.”

“It’s hard to look in anyone’s eyes, but easier if I know the person.” I was flooded with relief that he seemed okay discussing this. “Mostly it keeps me from focusing on what is being said. It also makes me feel like I’m violating that person’s privacy.”

“By looking in their eyes?”

“Like I’m seeing things that I shouldn’t see.” He shakes his head. “I get tired of having to explain it to people. And you aren’t going to get it so—”

“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” I interrupted quietly.

“Eyes are not windows.”

“It’s a metaphor, Wil. It means that a person’s eyes can show what’s going on with them beneath the surface. So maybe you’re feeling like a Peeping Tom?”

He was quiet for a long time, shifting from one leg to the other. “Yeah, so maybe if I make eye contact with you as long as you want, you’ll let me peep through your window.”

I opened my mouth, about to lodge a protest, when I saw the smile on his face. He was rather pleased with himself and his joke. “Ha ha. Then again, you do stare at my boobs enough.”

“I like your breasts.” His eyes darted to my chest, causing my nipples to tighten under my t-shirt.

I folded my arms to cover my unconscious reaction and laughed. “I can tell.”

“And your butt. And your legs. And—”

“All right, all right. I get the picture. Let’s get in your car,” I said with an exasperated sigh. Typical man.

William opened the car door for me and then walked around before sliding in behind the wheel. As we headed out of the parking lot, I dared a glance at his chiseled profile.

I wasn’t above feeling gratified when a hot guy noticed me. And evidently, William had. He thought I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His compliment—couched more like an observation of fact—made me feel more glorious and radiant than Aphrodite when Adonis chose to be with her over the goddess Persephone.

We grabbed some fast food from a drive-thru and ate it in the car to avoid the dinner crowd. Then William took me home and, taking his chivalrous duties seriously, insisted on walking me up two flights of stairs to my door.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I wanted to kiss William so badly—well, maybe because he’s freaking hot as hell—but if there was ever an opportunity, this was it. So I leaned in to kiss him goodnight. He was so much taller than me that I pushed up on my tiptoes, expecting him to lean in, too.

No such luck.

He must not have known what I was attempting to do, which would explain why he stepped back when he saw me leaning toward him. I lost my balance, but he caught me, and his strong arms stayed wrapped around me for a few moments longer than they needed to be. There was something electric in that embrace—a heaviness in the air, like before a rainstorm.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, feeling my face burn. Thank goddess it was dark outside. “I, uh, I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss.”

A pause. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “You should have told me.”

Slowly, stiffly, he bent down, and I—now embarrassed beyond belief—turned my head and quickly landed a peck on his cheek. Then I reached for the knob to scurry off into my apartment and lick my wounds.

I was detained when William hooked a large hand around my arm.

“That’s not a goodnight kiss,” he said.

“Oh? So then—” And that’s all I got out before his mouth pressed against mine. I barely had a chance to catch my breath before I was on the ride of my life…

I opened my lips and suddenly something inside of me jolted, like a rollercoaster hitting the track at full speed. The shock was such that I almost pulled back.

I was certainly glad I didn’t when William reached up and slid his palms to the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair. I pressed my hands to his broad chest as he pinned my body against the cold metal door. Struggling for breath, I felt that kiss not just at the juncture of our lips but all over my body. From the top of my prickling scalp, where his fingers rested without ever relinquishing their hold, to the tingling in my toes.