His mouth captures mine again, this time slower. Deeper. Like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. My hands wind into his shirt, clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. He breaks the kiss just long enough to lean his forehead against mine.
“You’re wearing the boots,” he murmurs, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
“I am. Wait till you see what’s under the dress.”
His hands slip to my waist, pulling me flush against him. “You’re gonna kill me, darlin’.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I breathe, brushing my lips along his jaw.
His breath catches. “I just got you back, Charlie. And I’m not wasting a second of it.”
He guides me down to the plush couch, pulling me into his lap with practiced ease. My knees bracket his hips as he holds me there, one hand on my lower back, the other threading into my hair. The way he looks at me in that moment makes something ache sweetly in my chest.
“I wrote a hundred songs about losing you. Missing you. Loving you,” he says quietly, his lips brushing mine, voicerough with something more than desire. “But I think I’m finally ready to write one about forever.”
My breath catches. I kiss him again, slow and certain, and this time it’s more than just passion. It’s full of promise. Of second chances. Of something that feels a lot like forever.
His hands find my hips, sliding beneath the hem of my dress with reverence and hunger. The calloused pads of his fingers skim over my thighs, up, until they brush the lace between my legs. I moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.
“Darlin’,” he groans, voice strained, “I’m trying to be a gentleman, but it’s real hard right now.”
I shift my hips, grinding softly against the ridge of him beneath me. “I can tell.”
He lets out a low, helpless laugh against my lips, and we share a smile that’s breathless and warm until it turns molten all over again.
His mouth moves down the side of my neck, slow and open, while his fingers tease at the edge of my panties, and I arch into him, completely undone by the way he touches me like I’m I’m his.
“God, Charlie,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth back to mine. “I missed this. Missed you.”
“Then don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t.
Not until I’m gasping his name like a prayer, just like the lyrics of every song he’s ever written for me.
Sam’s hands slide up my thighs, rough palms against smooth skin, the friction delicious. I shiver, not from the cool air of the bus but from the heat building between us. His mouth moves from mine to the line of my jaw, then down the curve of my throat, pausing just above the neckline of my dress.
“You have no idea how many nights I dreamed of this,” he murmurs, voice thick with want.
I arch toward him, hands fisting in his shirt. “Show me.”
He does.
Slowly, carefully, he slides the straps of my dress down my shoulders, his knuckles brushing against skin like he’s worshiping every inch. The dress pools at my waist, and his breath hitches as he drinks me.
“You’re more beautiful than I remembered,” he says, almost like it hurts.
I cup his face, guiding his gaze back to mine. “I’m here, Sam.”
His mouth crashes against mine again, the kiss deep and consuming. One of his hands slides behind my back, lifting me as he carries me to the small bed at the rear of the bus. We collapse together in a tangle of limbs and laughter, the kind that fades into sighs and soft moans as his mouth trails down my chest.
I tug his shirt over his head, running my hands over the lean strength of his torso, reacquainting myself with every muscle and scar. My fingertips linger on a faint line just above his ribs, and his breath hitches.
He groans when I rake my nails lightly down his stomach, his whole body taut with restraint. The kind that feels like it’s about to snap.
“I’ve missed the way you touch me,” he whispers, lips brushing over the swell of my breast, sending a shiver spiraling through me. “Missed everything about you.”
My head falls back with a gasp as his mouth moves lower, kissing, tasting, marking his trail like he’s starving and I’m his salvation. One of his hands slides behind my neck, fingers threading into my hair, anchoring me to this moment. To him.
