Drew’s eyes were dark, his breathing uneven. He reached for the baby monitor at his waist, checking it before carefully placing it on my nightstand.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. “Because if you’re not?—”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I interrupted, surprising myself with my certainty.
The look that crossed his face—relief mixed with heady desire—only made me more certain. We were both feeling this and there was no going back.
He closed the distance between us again, but this time when he kissed me, it was slower and deeper, as if he was savoring me now instead of just desperately consuming.
His hands slid under the hem of my tank top, warm against my skin, and I arched into his touch, wanting him more than I’d ever wanted anyone. It hit me in that moment—how completely the hatred had transformed into desire and how thin that line had always been.
We’d spent years fighting each other, and now, with the same intensity, we surrendered.
THIRTY-THREE
Her lips were heaven.
And I was prepared to worship at her altar as long as she’d let me.
My mouth found her neck, the taste of her skin making me groan. I’d fantasized about this, but reality was so much better.
Her hands slid under my shirt, nails scraping lightly across my stomach before she tugged impatiently at the fabric. I barely gave her enough room to pull it off before I was on her again, desperate for the contact. I laid her down on the bed and she gasped as my weight settled between her thighs, her fingers digging into my back hard enough to leave marks.
I didn’t care.
I wanted the marks.
Wanted physical proof this wasn’t just another frustrating dream I’d wake up from.
“Fuck,” she breathed as I rolled my hips against hers, the pressure making us both shudder.
Part of me wanted to savor this, to remember every fucking second of finally crossing this line.
But my restraint was hanging by a thread.
Her tank top had ridden up, exposing the soft skin of her stomach. I couldn’t resist sliding my hand beneath it, feeling her shiver as my fingers traced upward. When my thumb grazed the underside of her breast, she arched into my touch with a soft gasp that nearly broke me.
“Take it off,” she demanded, lifting her arms.
I pulled the thin fabric over her head, and for a moment, I just stared.
Fuck. She was so damn beautiful.
“Drew,” she whispered, and I hated the insecurity that entered her eyes.
I lowered my mouth to her collarbone, then between her breasts. “God, Harper,” was all I could manage, my brain short-circuiting at finally having her underneath me like this.
She wrapped her legs around my hips, pulling me closer. The contact made us both gasp, and I had to close my eyes for a second to keep my composure.
It was driving me insane.
I slid my hand down her side, over her hip, beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts. Her breathing quickened as my fingers traced the edge of her underwear.
“Please,” she breathed, lifting her hips.
I slipped my hand between her thighs, finding her already wet, and nearly lost it right there. Her lips parted on a silent moan as I stroked her, learning what made her breath catch and what made her dig her nails into my shoulders.
Like she was claiming me for all the world to see.
