After I hung up with Kelly, I nearly wore a groove into the office floor with my pacing.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Every minute stretched thin, taut as wire.
The sky darkened.
The cold settled deeper.
And my chest stayed locked tight, like it knew something my brain didn’t yet.
Then I hear it.
The sound of a truck on gravel.
That engine note hits me straight in the spine.
I’m moving before I realize it—out the door, across the lot, heart hammering so hard it’s painful.
And then she’s there. Alive. Standing. Breathing.
I don’t wait. I open the driver’s side door.
And suddenly she’s in my arms.
I don’t remember crossing the distance. I don’t remember reaching for her.
I just know she’s against me—warm, solid, real—and everything inside me snaps.
“Dammit, Baby Girl,” I grunt, the words torn out of me like a growl.
That’s all I get out before I’m kissing her.
Hard. Deep. Desperate.
I don’t give her time to question it, don’t give myself time to overthink. Her hands clutch at my jacket, her mouth opens under mine, and that’s it—I’m gone.
Completely fucking gone.
She melts into me, and when her legs part instinctively, when the heat of her presses against the aching hardness trapped in my jeans, I groan low in my throat.
Christ.
She feels so good it borders on pain.
Warm. Soft. Alive. Here.
I need her—need her in a way that scares the hell out of me.
A way that isn’t just lust, isn’t just hunger.
I don’t think she understands how close I came to losing my mind waiting for her.
How the idea of her walking away—thinking I wasn’t worth the trouble, that I was like him—nearly broke something in me I didn’t know could break.
But she’s kissing me back now, breath hitching, body pliant, and if I don’t get inside her right now, I’m going to lose control completely.
