Probably a neighbor, I think. Then my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out I glance at the screen
One text:let me in
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lorelie
“Kids asleep?” I whisper ask when Patrick unlocks the door.
He nods, confused, tilting his head just enough for the hallway light to shine over one side of his face.
I smile. “Well… can I come in?”
A breathy laugh escapes him as he pulls the door wider. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, I step inside, close enough that he has to step back, then reach behind me and shut the door with a soft click.
“I missed you,” I whisper, feeling exposed.
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”
I nod and tug him closer by the front of his shirt.
Patrick braces his hands on either side of my head against the door, caging me in without touching me. The warmth of him hits me first, then the look on his face, like he’s not sure how to react.
I bite my lip, slowly nibbling the skin.
His eyes drop to my mouth instantly.
He studies the way I worry the soft skin between my teeth, like he’s memorizing every detail. His gaze flicks up to mine, searching for hesitation, asking for permission without saying a word.
I don’t hesitate.
My fingers curl tighter in his shirt, pulling him in just slightly.
He leans in, his breath hot against my skin. Then, with one gentle sweep of his thumb, he traces the outline of my lower lip.
A shiver runs straight through me.
He gives me more than enough time to pull away.
But I don’t.
Not even close.
I tilt my chin up, invitation written all over me, and whisper, “Patrick…”
And he finally closes the last inch between us. The first touch of his lips is a question, soft and searching against mine. I sigh into his mouth, and that small sound is all the permission he needs.
The pressure deepens, his lips parting slightly to fit more perfectly against my own. His hand, which had been braced against the door, comes up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling gently in my hair.
The hold is possessive but not demanding, a silent reminder that he has me. His other thumb, sweeps along my jawline, a slow, burning path that makes my skin tingle.
He tastes just like I remember, clean and mine. The kiss becomes a slow, languid dance. I meet his exploration with my own, my tongue brushing against his in a tentative caress that sends a jolt straight down my spine.
I pull back, breathing heavily, while my lips tingle. Patrick rests his forehead against mine, his breath just as ragged as mine.
“Well,” he drawls, voice low and smug in the cutest way, “youreallymissed me.”
