Now it was my turn to blink. She wasn’t trying to run away from me. She wasn’t in a hurry to get back to her parents. I forgot to breathe.
“We do need to head back tomorrow, and I will stay with my parents this month,” she said, her voice soft. “Being here, with you, is confusing. I’m trying to go with my gut instead of overthinking everything, and it’s saying to stay here with you in our home.”
“Trust that gut, baby,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I have to kiss you.”
“Yeah?” She arched a brow and crouched down. “Then catch me.”
She took off from the kitchen and thundered up the stairs. Her action caught me so off guard, it took a good ten seconds to catch up. I laughed. She hadn’t done something like this inyears, where she’d run off and I’d find her in a closet or something. She thought it was funny as hell to stump me, and my God, my heart grew three damn sizes at hearing her giggle again.
I had to find her. I had to fucking kiss her.
“Where is my wife?” I checked the guest room, the closet, the bathroom. Repeated the process in our third room upstairs that wasn’t quite a guest room, not quite an office. She wasn’t there. I moved toward our bedroom when a sound alerted me that she was on the stairs.
That little minx.
I bolted down the stairs, catching her in the kitchen. Her eyes lit up and her face was all laughter as she stood between the island and fridge. I almost had her trapped.
“You won’t get by me.”
“Not so sure about that, big guy.”
She darted right, then left, but I was faster. I caught her by the waist and placed her on the counter, caging her there with an arm on either side. Our faces were inches apart and my heart pounded against my rib cage.
Her breath hit my face, her fingers finding my biceps as she clung to me.
My entire body was tuned to hers. The way her pulse at the base of her neck raced, the way her chest heaved, the way her lips parted, and how she leaned forward.
“Laney, sweetheart,” I whispered, kissing her jawline. She trembled as I brushed my lips near hers. “I caught you,” I teased, then continued down her neck. “So I want my kiss.”
“Then kiss me,” she demanded, wrapping her legs around my waist and tugging me closer. “I need you to kiss me, Connor.”
“Hmm, do you?” I wanted this to last, for us to stay in this moment and live in this bubble forever. I ran my nose along her neck, biting her collarbone lightly.
She let out the sexiest little frustrated groan, and I chuckled against her skin.
“Will you regret it if I kiss you?”
“Not even a little bit. Please, please.”
My hands slid under her sweatshirt, gripping her hips as I leaned back and stared down at her.
“You are fucking perfect,” I said. Then I finally kissed her.
It was an explosion of feelings. Home. Mine. Joy.
Her full lips met mine with the same desperation, but it wasn’t just lust. There was love in the movement. We kissed slowly, taking our time tasting each other. I was in no hurry. I could stay like this for hours, showing her without words how much I loved her. And I would, if she let me.
She nipped at my bottom lip, so I swiped my thumb over her stomach. She rocked her hips against my growing erection, so I pressed into her, deepening the kiss as she tilted her head back. I cradled her neck with one hand, leaving the other on her bare skin, and I slowed the kiss down. I opened my eyes to find her staring right back at me, and my knees weakened at the intensity of her gaze.
Was it possible to fall in love again, twice as strong, from one kiss?
Making out with my wife on the kitchen counter was now a top-ten moment.
She moaned into my mouth, her body squirming as she pleaded. “Connor, I’m burning up. I need… need…”
“Can I touch you?” I loved her sounds, her needy pleas.
“You said—” I sucked the base of her neck. “We shouldn’t…”
