“Other than that,” I say.
“There’s very little room for anything other than that,” he says. He shifts me until I’m sitting on his lap facing him, my knees straddling his waist. He grips my thighs in his hands, and his thumbs trace small circles over my dress that make it hard to focus on anything else. I inch closer, my fuse lit.
I drag my fingers through his hair, scraping my nails lightly against his scalp. His head lolls back as his eyes fall shut. His fingers are nearly bruising my thighs now, and it’s the best feeling of my life. I run my hands over his chest and arms and trace his edges, resting a thumb in the notch between his collarbones. I brush my nose against the line of his throat, feeling his heavy swallow. He’s patient as my fingers and eyes rove over him, but the corded tension in his forearms betrays him. “Either kill me or put me out of my misery, Darling.”
“I need a minute to get used to the idea that this is real,” I say.
I can hear the rush of blood in my ears and count the beats of my unsteady heart. It’s hard not to wonder how many heartbeats I have left in this limbo before West and I fall into something that will change everything. I shift my weight and feel him under me, and his eyes fly open. His fingers tighten, searing through the fabric of my dress. The burn of his eyes onmine tells me that, like it or not, everything has already changed.
I kiss him. Not a first kiss, but one that feels like a daybreak all the same. When I realize this, I draw back, but he catches my chin in his hand and pulls me to him. When our lips touch again, it’s like slow-dripping molasses, his tongue unhurried and exploring, licking promises against mine with every stroke. His hand slides to the back of my neck and holds me there, and for the span of a few heartbeats, I think I could spend the rest of my life kissing West like we’re in a hazy, slow-motion daydream.
My hands slide down his arms. I brush my thumb across the skin where his tattoo used to be and pull my mouth away, resting my forehead against his as I inhale a shaky breath.
I lift my eyes to his, and he understands the question without my having to ask.
“It’s still there if you look closely,” he says. I raise his arm and see that he’s right. It’s faded, but buried under layers of healed skin is the faintest outline of an orange blossom tattoo that matches mine. “I had it lasered a few months after the article came out, when my self-loathing was at its peak. I changed my mind after a couple of sessions, though. Decided to write us a different ending.”
I nod, the riot of emotion in my chest making it hard to speak.
“Anything else you want to know?” he asks, and I know that if I decide to ignore the heat simmering in my blood, West will sit with me on the couch and answer my questions until the sun comes up. But the tension between us is nearly at a tipping point, and West’s hands are wandering, and our collective patience is a rubber band stretched beyond its limit.
I shake my head. “Is there anythingyouwant to know?”
He traps my lips with another long, slow drag, worrying my bottom lip between his teeth. He releases it and then soothes the tender spot with a swipe of his tongue. “Can I take you to my room?” His voice is a low rumble that makes me want to press my hand against his chest and feel it.
“Please,” I beg.
His hands slide up my sides as he walks me backward down the hall and into his bedroom. I lift my arms, and he pulls his sweater over my head and throws it to the side. “Your dress, too,” he says.
If possible, I flush even hotter as I slip my dress down my shoulders and let it puddle at my feet. West’s eyes darken as his gaze wanders over me. I feel his attention everywhere, the weight of it dancing over my skin like popping firecrackers. A spike of heat here, a crackle of energy there.
He curses softly as he drinks me in, and it occurs to me a beat too late that perhaps I have a reason to feel self-conscious. He’s seen me like this before, only now there are added years and pounds and scars on my frame, telling stories that he doesn’t yet know. I hear the whisper of a learned instinct to hide my body, but it’s quickly smothered by the dark heat in West’s eyes.
His face creases with longing that I’d recognize anywhere; it’s the same sensation that lances through me every time I see him. It’s hot and demanding and unrelenting, and when he looks at me like that, I feel like tissue paper held over a fire. Like he’s singeing me from the inside out, burning me up until I’m ash.
“I can’t stop looking at you,” he breathes.
“Let me look atyou.” I’m in nothing but scraps of lace, andhe’s fully dressed, which won’t do at all. I cross the scant space between us and undo the first button on his shirt.
He lifts a brow as he watches my hands move lower. With each button, I press a kiss into the hollow of his neck.
“Careful.” His voice is a low warning that makes me want to do dangerous things just to hear him say it again. “A man could get used to being undressed like this.”
“That’s the point. I never want you to undo a button again without thinking of me,” I say, pulling a bark of surprised laughter from him. I push his shirt over his shoulders and press a soft kiss right over his heart. Lips still against his skin, I tip my head up and lock eyes with him. I snake my tongue out and lick up his chest in a slow drag, and West decides in that moment that he’s had enough.
I gasp as he lifts me and sets me on the edge of the mattress.
“On your knees,” he rasps, looking drugged and desperate. He puts his hands under my elbows and pulls me up to my knees, a move that brings us eye to eye again.
I rake my fingers through his perfect curls, reveling in his unraveling. “Did you know I had a sex dream about you in this bed last night?” I screw my eyes shut tight as his teeth find my earlobe.
He exhales a sharp curse near my ear. “Did you know that I touched myself thinking ofyoulast night?”
I press my hand to my mouth to trap the mortifying sound I feel coming.
He pulls it away. “Let me hear you,” he demands as his lips work their way south.
He presses an open-mouthed kiss to my ribs. The inch of skin beneath my bra. With each kiss, I feel starbursts in my bloodstream.
