My heart threatens to burst through my ribcage.
I slide my palms up her arms, to her shoulders, cradling her face. “Tell me again,” I murmur, needing to hear it one more time, to be sure this is real.
“I love you, Josh Collins.” Her voice is stronger now, more certain. “And I’m terrified of how much.”
“Being scared together is better than being brave apart,” I tell her, and then I can’t wait any longer.
I tilt my head, my pulse heavy in my veins, and brush my lips against hers, a whispered question. She answers in a rush of breath, parting her mouth for me. Every nerve ending in my body ignites at that single point of contact, roaring to life, craving more. Lily’s fingers slide into my hair, tightening almost painfully, as she pulls me forward and deeper. I answer in kind, lowering my hands to grip her waist. I pull her body flush against mine. Her legs part, and still kneeling on the floor, I settle between them. The kiss is no longer tentative, it’s hungry, desperate and fierce with the raw ache of two people who’ve been holding back for too long.
The softness of her mouth yields to urgency, her lips insistent, tasting of everything we’ve withheld, everything we’ve denied ourselves. A quiet groan escapes her throat—a needy whimper edged with relief—and it sends fire through me, setting ablaze every careful boundary I was forced to keep. I shift closer, sliding my palm from her waist to the curve of her spine, feeling each delicate knot beneath my fingertips. Her heartbeat is wild against my other hand as I press it to her neck.
Our bodies align naturally, her thighs shifting to frame my hips, holding me closer. Lily’s grip eases into caresses, fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the sensitive hollow beneath my ear, the curve of my neck. Our breaths mingle in sharp gasps and hushed murmurs, blending into something more potent, more honest than words could ever manage. I memorize her touch, her scent, the way she kisses me like she’s surrendering and claiming me. And I taste the salt of her tears, feel the flutter of her pulse under my fingertips, and know with absolute certainty that this—her, us—is worth any career, any danger, any sacrifice.
When we break apart, both breathless, she looks at me with eyes that shine with a mixture of love and lingering worry. “You’re sure about this? About us?”
I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” I press another quick kiss to her lips because now that I can, I’ll never stop. “The real question is, are you sure? Can you let yourself have this? Have us?”
Lily takes a deep breath, and I watch the transformation happen—the fear doesn’t disappear, but it recedes, making room for something brighter, something that looks a lot like hope. “Yes,” she says, her voice small but steady. “I want to try. With you.”
I pull her into my arms, burying my face in her neck, breathing in the sunshine and flowers of the weekends, a smell that’s become home. “It’s all I’m asking for,” I murmur against her temple. “A chance to show you that some risks are worth taking.”
She laughs, tightening her arms around me. “I should warn you, you’re not just getting me. You’re getting a sassy eight-year-old who will have you wrapped around her finger in about five minutes flat.”
“Pretty sure that ship has sailed,” I admit with a grin. “I’m already planning how to build the treehouse she’s been talking about. Think Dorian will mind having one in his garden?”
Lily shakes her head, but she’s smiling now, really smiling, without the shadows that usually lurk behind her eyes. “You’re going to spoil her rotten.”
“Both of you,” I promise, pulling her back into my arms. “Every single day.”
I press my lips to her hair and hold her. Our bodies fit so perfectly our love feels inevitable. She tips her head back to look at me, the sass she’s shown me from day one sparking in her eyes, but shimmering with nerves too. “Every single day, huh?” she whispers, as if daring me to mean it.
“Every single day,” I promise.
I look at her, finally able not to hide what I’m feeling, to let it show on my face. I want to memorize every inch of her, every new micro-expression, to be able to replay the moment she became mine. Her breath hitches—a barely there intake—but I feel it everywhere. My whole body goes tight with wanting. A pulse beats between us now, bristling with electricity. She drops her gaze to my mouth, and I’m gone. I dip my head, catching her lips in a kiss that starts slow and reverent, but soon ignites. Neither of us has any patience left. Her hands tangle in my shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling me closer, kissing me like she’s starving. Months of restraint break open, all the longing and fear and what-ifs flooding out of us. I give in, deepening the kiss, feeling her open under me, her body melting against mine. She surges forward, knocking me off balance. We tumble to the floor, landing on the rug. She’s on top, knees bracketing my hips, laughter caught in her throat as she leans down to kiss me again, harder this time, with a frantic joy. I can’t stop touching her. My hands find her thighs, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling her skin heat under my palms. She gasps, her hips rocking into mine, her hair falling around us in a curtain. I relish the weight of her body, the heat, the taste of her mouth, the tiny sounds she makes every time I touch her.
I roll us over to get on top of her. I kiss her jaw, her neck, every new patch of skin within my reach, greedy for the salt and sweetness of her. I want to lose myself, to give in to every reckless urge I’ve buried for months. But as I pull up on my elbows and search for her mouth again, she tenses.
Lily is still, her lips are wobbling, and her eyes shine too bright. My heart trips as her gaze darts sideways, her chest rising too fast, like she’s breathing through something sharp. Her fingers loosen in my hair, sliding to my shoulders, not pushing me away but not drawing me closer either.
A low, bruising ache opens in my chest. Have I pushed her too far? Bulldozed past her limits? What if she’s not ready, what if she never will be, not for this, not for me?
I hover above her, my breath coming hard, and force myself to stop, to see her fully. She’s looking at me with wide and uncertain eyes.
I swallow against the panic rising in my throat to steady my voice, to be what she needs—even if what she needs isn’t me.
“What’s wrong?”
30
LILY
Josh hovers above me, his eyes searching mine, body still. The question hangs between us—What’s wrong?—and I don’t know how to answer. My heart is pounding against my ribs searching for an escape, and my skin burns everywhere he’s touched me. I want this—I want him—so badly like I never thought I’d want someone again. But I can’t stop the part of myself that thinks I’m cheating on Daniel.
“I…” My voice cracks as I struggle to translate the hurricane inside me into words. “It’s been four years since I’ve been with anyone. Over a decade since it was someone other than Daniel.”
Understanding floods Josh’s face, softening his features. His thumb traces the curve of my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t even realize had fallen.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, his voice a gentle rumble against my skin. He shifts his weight, easing off me, but I tighten my grip, not wanting him to go far. He settles beside me instead, one arm still draped across my middle as we lie on our sides on the living room rug, facing each other. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We have all the time in the world.”
