“You do.”
“You make me believe it, too.”
She kisses me.
Not hesitant. Not asking. Just her mouth on mine and her hands sliding up my chest, and every thought in my head going completely quiet.
I pull her closer, one hand tangling in her hair, the other finding her waist. She tastes like chocolate, and I want to memorize this moment—the way she fits against me, the slight sound she makes when I deepen the kiss, the way her fingers curl into my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“Upstairs,” she whispers against my mouth.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Chapter ten
Chapter 10
Rachel
Ilead Theo upstairs, my heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
My bedroom feels smaller with him in it. He closes the door behind us, and the click of the latch sounds louder than it should.
“Rachel.” He says my name like a question.
I turn to face him. “I’m sure.”
“You said that downstairs.” He takes a step closer. “But I need you to be sure. Because once we do this—”
“I know.” I close the distance between us, my hands finding his chest. “I know what this means. I know it’s complicated. I know Jake’s going to lose his mind if he finds out.” My fingers curl into his shirt. “But I’m still sure.”
He searches my face for a long moment. Whatever he sees there must satisfy him because he kisses me again.
This kiss is different from the one in the kitchen. Slower. Deeper. Like he’s taking his time learning the shape of my mouth, the way I breathe when his hands slide down to my waist.
I pull at his shirt, and he breaks the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head. Then his hands are on me, tugging at my old t-shirt, and I help him pull it off.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice is rough. Reverent.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to.” His hands trace up my sides, thumbs brushing just under my ribs. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
I reach for his belt, and his breath catches. My fingers fumble with the buckle because apparently my hands forgot how to function, but he covers them with his own, steadying me.
“We’ve got time,” he murmurs against my temple. “No rush.”
But there is a rush. There’s urgency singing through my veins because I want this. Want him. Want to stop thinking about everything wrong in my life and feel something good for once.
He backs me toward the bed, his mouth never leaving mine. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I sit down and look up at him.
He’s beautiful. Lean muscle and warm skin and eyes that look at me like I’m the moon.
“Come here,” I whisper.
He does.
