I freeze, worried that the slightest movement will frighten her off, like a deer in headlights. But that’s all it would take. One tiny, minuscule shift in our positions to have my lips against hers.
It would be easy.
It would also be incredibly stupid.
I promised myself that if I was ever going to do this, the timing would be right. That she would be ready for this—for me.
The timing ofthiscould not be worse. She is grieving Derek, healing from Kylian—she is shattered.
But the shift in the air, in her scent, the sudden tension so palpable I can almost taste it in the small space between us, is undeniable. Our foreheads touch, and my eyes drift closed, drunk on her mere proximity.
“Tell me what you want.” The lazy words fall from my mouth without any real thought as to the damning consequences.
She bites down on her lower lip, sucking it between her teeth.
Seven hells.
“I want you.”
I rein in a shudder, feeling her voice breeze over me. But I need more. I need her to say it.
“Be more specific.”
Those hypnotic eyes flicker up to mine as she annihilates my resolve with just two simple words.
“Kiss me.”
There will be no coming back from this if I do. Because there is no world in which kissing her now does not change everything.
My mind shouts in warning. I should deny her momentary lapse in judgment. Chalk it up to being bereft and in need of distraction. But despite my better judgment, despite reason and sanity and honor, I find myself leaning in like a slow-motion car wreck and placing a ghost of a kiss over her waiting lips.
It’s a test. Barely even scratching the surface. I pull back, almost afraid to meet her eyes. But when I do, all I see is hunger. Rare, raw, and desperate.
I wait one more second and then?—
Oh, fuck it.
I braid my hands through that thick head of hair and tilt it back. The sweetest sound of surprise leaves her mouth as it parts for me, and I cover it with my own.
The first taste of her has me groaning. I take control of the kiss, no longer able to hold back, feeling her body melt into my touch—forming to me like we were made for each other.
Because we were.
I lay her down, tucking her beneath me as my fantasies burst to life. She kisses me back, her fingers clutching my collar, curling in my hair, tugging me closer like she needs this as badly as I do. I let my mouth wander lower, over her neck and chest, tracing each perfect curve with my hands.
This is all I ever want to do. Make sure no part of her goes untouched, unloved.
Her hold grows rough as she cranes her neck off the ground, her lips working around mine as if to consume me. Every little noise she makes sends a surge of blood straight down my body until I’m straining against my waistband, begging to be buried inside her.
Her scent teases me, invades every part of me, making it impossible to breathe around her—like she’s all that exists.
She becomes the air itself.
“I want you so bad,” she murmurs against my skin.
You have no fucking idea, I want to say.
But then I remember.
