“It meant I couldn’t have you, Willa. I’m not allowed to be with clients. It’s against my contract.” I reach out and push a wet tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Couldn’t?”
Of course, she would take note of the exact words I used. She steps closer until we’re close enough to touch, but neither of us seems to want to be the one to cross that line, waiting for the other to break first. I wonder if her heart feels like it’s about to break out of her chest, too.
“I still can’t have you now, Willa.” The glimmer of hope melts from her face in an instant, making my heart pang. Even though I had already decided to go for it, that look would have changed my mind if I hadn’t. “But I don’t really care about what I can and can’t have anymore, Willa. Eight years ago, I had to choose between my career and my heart, and I’ve regretted it ever since, but I’m not making that mistake again. Not if it means I have to pretend that you aren’t everything to me for a fucking minute longer.”
Her breath catches, and I lean in, catching the gasp between my lips, my hand sliding to her neck to pull her to me as my other arm moves around her waist.
There’s no going back now, and even if I could, I know I wouldn’t want to.
TWENTY-ONE
WILLA
Leo Sinclaire is kissing me.
Leo is killing me.
No, he’s not just kissing me: he’s consuming me. Devouring me.
One of his warm hands is buried in my hair, and his lips are moving on mine, and the world around us doesn’t exist as I lift my own hands to cup his cheeks, desperate to feel him, to ensure this isn’t some kind of fucked dream, some manifestation of my desperate mind.
I hold his face, shifting in an effort to get closer to him. He groans, the arm on my waist pulling me in even tighter, gluing his body to mine as if he, too, is worried this moment will disappear.
My mind could never conjure something this beautiful.
“Leo,” I murmur when he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine and looking down at me with dazed eyes, fighting to hold on to whatever thread of control he still has.
I want it to snap.
“Willa,” he says, breathing heavy, his hand on my chin, tipping it to keep me looking at him. “Will, honey, please tellme you want this. Please tell me I haven’t completely fucked this up.”
I shake my head, a smile spreading over my lips as I look at him in awe, my heart ready to combust as all of the pieces fall into place.
He always knew it was me.
He kept his distance because he wanted me, but couldn’t let himself have me.
Like I’ve done a million times before, he chose his career over chasing what his heart wanted, and right now he wants to set that right.
I have no idea what this means. I have no idea what will happen tomorrow, no idea what this will mean for our working relationship or my career or his, but for the first time in my life, I don’t care. For the first time in my life, I’m unsure of what I should do, so instead, I take what I desperately want.
“Took you long enough,” I murmur.
He smiles, wide and genuine and blinding, before pulling my face to his. This kiss isn’t sweet and hesitant; it's fiery. Filled with need that we’ve both carried for years, desire and pent-up tension that are finally being released, he kisses me with all of the passion I’ve been seeing in his eyes for weeks, and I give it back to him, my hands moving to the back of his neck to pull him into me. His knees bend, his hands slide to my hips, then down to my ass before he cups it, then lifts me. On instinct, my legs wrap his hips. I giggle as he lifts me up until we’re face-to-face, but it quickly turns into a different sound altogether when he presses into me, his hips grinding into mine.
That’s when I find him already hard and let out a heavy breath.
“Leo,” I whimper, but can’t get any more out because his lips fall to mine once more, kissing hot and deep with a passion I’ve only ever read about. My hands move, trying to touch everyinch of him I can, as if this is my one chance to commit it all to memory.
“Fuck, I don’t wanna take this off,” he grumbles, hands sliding under the shirt as his hips keep me pinned to the wall. “Like seeing you in it far too much.”
“I’ll put it back on later,” I promise, and this time he groans, hips pressing deeper into mine. I groan at the contact, at the scrape of him against my clit, and then gasp when his hand cups my bare breast. His head pulls back, and instantly, I miss his hot breath at my neck.
“No bra?” I bite my lip.
“It was wet. I didn’t want to put it back on.”
