She moans into my mouth as my tongue traces along her lips, and I don’t dare waste the opportunity to taste her properly. And fuck does she taste good. A little like the dinner we just had and a whole lot like Diet Coke, and I love it just as much as I hate it.
She pulls me closer, almost like she can’t get enough, and I feel the exact same way. I’ve kissed her hundreds of times before—possibly even thousands—but I don’t think any of them have ever felt this good. My hands dig into her soft hips, and I pull her closer, needing to feel more of her. She lets me, running her fingertips over my scalp roughly. It hurts, but I welcome the pain. I’ll take anything as long as it means I can keep touching her like this.
Without warning, I lift her, and she lets out a soft yelp as I set her on the counter. She used to yell at me when I did this, telling me she weighed too much for me to be picking her up. She was wrong. She was never too big for me. She was always just right, which is exactly what this feels like—right.
“Callum,” she whispers as I drag my lips from hers to trail them over her jaw, and hearing my name does nothing but spur me on.
I kiss her softly, then trace a path downward, nipping at her just because I can. She groans when I reach her favorite spot—the one right at the base of her throat. I roll my tongue over the place I’ve had my lips so many times before, and her nails scratch against me, letting me know she’s loving this just as much as I am.
“I missed this,” she says, and I needed to hear those words too.
I missed you. I love you. I still want you forever.
The words linger in the back of my mind, but I don’t say them out loud, too afraid it’ll ruin this moment, and I can’t risk that. I’ve waited too long for it. So I kiss her more. I tease her with my lips and tongue and teeth and hands until I’ve touched every inch of her that I can get to, then I start over.
“Come to my game tomorrow,” I say against her lips.
She nods. “Okay.”
Then I’m kissing her again because I don’t know how to stop. I never did, not since that first time she pressed her lips against mine in the hallway. I knew from that moment on, she was mine, and I was hers. There was no going back.
Here we are, all these years later, and I still feel the same. I inch my fingers under her sweater that feels as soft as it looks, and I know instantly it’s a mistake.Fuck, fuck, fuck, I chant in my mind as Chloe turns to stone beneath my touch.
Slowly—because it’s the last thing I want to do—I pull away and take in the sight before me. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, and little red marks are speckled across her face. Her hair is messy from my hands, and she’s breathing hard, like she just ran up two flights of stairs. None of it makes her any less beautiful.
“I should…go,” she says quietly.
I nod, even though I don’t agree. I don’t want her to leave. I want her to stay, just like I did three years ago, but I get it. This is a lot to take in, and we still have so much left undiscussed between us. As badly as I want to take things further, stopping now is for the best.
I help her off the counter, and she asks to use the restroom before leaving. I tell her the way, then busy myself with boxing up the rest of the dumplings as she does her business. When shefinally emerges ten minutes later, it tells me everything I need to know—it’s not just me. She feels it too. She’s just as affected by this as I am.
Chloe smiles softly as she rises to stand after telling Percy goodbye.
“Thank you for today,” she says.
“Of course. Anytime.” I hope she knows how much I mean those words, too. “I ordered you a car. It should be here in just a few moments.”
“You…” She shakes her head. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“I know I didn’thaveto, but I wanted to.”
“Well, thanks,” she says.
I offer to walk her to the elevators. She refuses. I do it anyway.
“I’m pretty sure I could have found these by myself, but thank you,” she smarts off once we reach them.
I chuckle. “Just being a gentleman.”
She tips her head to the side, a crooked grin on her lips. “You always were one. To me, at least.”
That’s because you’re you.But we’ve already had a long day, so I don’t say that. The car comes much quicker than I’d like, and as she steps inside, I have to fight every cell in my body to keep from reaching for her again.
“Will you let me know when you make it back to your hotel?” I can already tell she wants to argue about that too, so I add, “Actually, that’s not a question. Let me know when you make it, all right?”
She closes her mouth, then nods. “I will.”
Saying good night and letting her leave would be the perfect way to end this conversation, but I don’t move my arm from holding the doors open. I can’t. The last thing I want is for thisnight to end. I need more. I need her. And I need her to know I’m not ready to give up on us.
