The doors close when Bronte turns and props his back against the wall beside me. I feel the soft drop, and my stomach does the same.
What are we doing, Meirna? We’re not going to leave.
Inhaling, I start to freak out internally when Bronte turns and sandwiches me between himself and the corner I threw myself in.
“Kiss your husband, goodbye, Daydream. You’re gonna have a long road ahead of you.”
I don’t want to say goodbye.
I’m not going to.
But I still glance up at Bronte like I am, trying not to give anything away that I’m experimenting with. “You’re the one who’s committed. I just came along for the ride?—”
Bronte’s in my face before he slams his lips against mine, pressing me hard into the wall so that he can suffocate me with his kiss and presence.
I can’t get any air from my small gasp when he slides histongue between my lips, coaxing mine wider when his palm rounds my hip and drops instantly to my ass.
A small, needy growl rumbles from deep inside his throat and, before I know it, my fingers are lacing in his hair and cupping the back of his head to keep him near.
My tongue plays along with his licks and lapses, causing Bronte to lean and lift me in the air with his forearm, holding me straight in the air because there’s no space for me to wrap my thighs around his waist.
But now that we’re level-faced, we have more access to be on an even battlefield of tongue, lips, and breath.
I run one of my hands over his shoulders, feeling butterflies dance excitedly in my gut. This secret little make-out session doesn’t feeling like a send-off but a crack of deep-seated emotions that’s slowly being chipped away.
There’s nothing here that makes me guilty. Everything that’s transpired, everything that’s happened—whether I’ve known it or not—sits here with us.
And I don’t want to walk away from each just yet.
They say curiosity killed the cat. But I’m not entirely sure I’d be able to live without knowing all the little things that make this man tick.
Meanwhile, Bronte’s kisses are aggressive, at best. He throws all his experience into them as if this truly is a farewell. As if I could forget him the moment I went back with Bobby and his lies.
The ding of the elevator indicates we’ve reached the lobby and, on cue, Bronte pulls away from me as if that’s the end. His time is up, and mine is starting with what I chose.
Gently, he places me down, then takes one step back and to the side, giving way to my being able to leave the elevator.
However, I don’t move.
There’s zero chance I’m stepping out into the lobby with or without Bobby being there.
My feetrefuse to move.
My mind won’t give the order.
And my body is still reeling with sparks of pleasure and warmth from that kiss.
“I want to make cookies and watchIt’s a Wonderful Life,” I mutter, not moving an inch from where he placed me.
Bronte’s green eyes stare down at me, doing the usual, giving nothing away because emotions either don’t know how to make it up to his face or he’s thinking that I’m messing with him again.
Finally, after a few more seconds of not moving from my place, Bronte nods, then hits the button back to our floor and prompts us back up to our suite.
Chapter 21
Bronte
My eyes crack open at two o’clock in the morning, realizing that I had fallen asleep on the couch when I look up at the old clock that hangs on one of the walls.
