When I turn, he’s standing there. Just watching me. His expression is unreadable but his eyes are dark and intent and I feel that look everywhere.
“You can still leave,” he says quietly. “If you want.”
It’s a genuine offer.
An out.
He’d let me walk away right now with no argument.
Which somehow makes me want to stay even more.
I step out of my shoes.
“I don’t want to leave.” The admission costs me something. “I should. But I don’t.”
He steps out of his own shoes and crosses the space between us in three steps. His hand comes up to cup my face. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone.
“Tell me you want this,” he says.
“I want this.” My voice comes out a rasp. “I want you. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though it’s going to hurt tomorrow.”
His expression softens. “It doesn’t have to hurt.”
“Yes it does.” I lean into his palm. “That’s the whole point.”
His other hand finds my waist. Pulls me closer.
“Amara.” He says my name.
And then kisses me.
3
Amara
The kiss starts soft. Almost questioning. Like he’s giving me one last chance to change my mind.
Then I make this embarrassing sound in the back of my throat and his hand fists in my hair and suddenly we’re not soft anymore.
We’re desperate and hungry and five years of unresolved tension is pouring into this one moment.
When we finally break apart I’m breathing hard and my face is flushed and I can feel the heat spreading down my neck.
“Bedroom?” he murmurs against my mouth.
I nod because... you know, words...
He takes my hand and leads me through the cottage. I get vague impressions of the space as we move. The sound of waves through the open louvered windows, the faint scent of salt and something floral, probably from whatever overpriced diffuser the resort stocks in their luxury cottages.
We reach the bedroom, where one lamp casts geometric shadows across the white linen bedding.
He releases me. He’s standing maybe three feet away, and watching me with an expression I can best call... predatory.
Great. Now what, genius?
“You can still change your mind,” he says quietly.
I shake my head before I can overthink it. “I don’t want to change my mind.”
