Warren is always gentle with me. Careful, cautious, considerate.
Not this time.
Not when he grabs the back of my neck.
Or crushes his mouth to mine.
And certainly not when he kisses me within an inch of my life.
This isn’t gentle. It’s unquenchable. Ruthless. Unparalleled.
I bask in every second, of every nip of his teeth and shift of his tongue. The cotton of his shirt stretches under my fist while the edge of the counter digs into my ass.
We withdraw, breathless, with fire in our eyes and an unspoken pact.
This can’t go further. Not after tonight. The kiss was our last.
But it’s one I’ll take to my grave, because being kissed by Warren O’Connor is a moment to be savored, etched into the brain to never be forgotten.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He grazes his nose below my ear, nipping at the sensitive skin.
His words sting. “Mistakes happen. We can share the blame.”
“Shouldn’t have but had to. Just once.”
When he finally draws back, apology strains the creases around his face, though the words never come. The only thing we’re sorry for is that nothing can ever come from this. Maybe in another life or years earlier.
“Come on.” He pulls me through the house, into the living room, and guides me to sit on the sofa. I didn’t realize my back ached until it meets the plush cushions.
“What are you doing?” I stare up at him.
“Getting you to relax for once. You cooked. I’ll clean.” He points a warning finger at me. “Stay put and don’t make me come in here.”
Before I can make a smart comment, hoping to shroud my embarrassment, he disappears, mumbling and cussing to himself. When he’s out of sight, I trace my swollen lips. The rush of water and clank of pans echoes from the kitchen, the clatter oddly soothing. My eyes grow heavy, body weightless.
Minutes, maybe hours, pass, and then I’m floating. The cloud isn’t fluffy; it’s solid and safe. I snuggle deeper, not letting go, even as I’m lowered onto my bed and the weight of my duvet covers me. Half-conscious, I listen for his retreating footsteps.
They never come.
The mattress dips.
A warm body hugs me close.
Lips press to my hair.
This is what I deserve. A man who cares so tenderly, he pushes aside his own needs. A man who shows up time and time again. A man who makes me feel protected.
What does Warren deserve? Is it this? Is it finally allowing himself to be happy again? To move on from a relationship I know so little about? What’s stopping him?
I’m too fucked in the head to truly give you what you deserve.
He’s wrong.
So wrong.
I wish I could prove it to him.
THIRTY-NINE
