“Annie…” It was like how he used to say her name in those secret moments before, desperate and possessive. Like she was his.
The familiarity of it held her heart in a vise grip, refusing to let go until she arched up and kissed him.
He stilled, but only for a moment. Then a groan before he deepened the kiss, demanding, indulgent, and oh so familiar, as his hands slid under her sweatshirt to her bare skin. Calloused fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her against him, and therush of how many times he had done that before came back to her like a wave. That’s right—her body had always fit so perfectly against his.
“Get inside,” she said against his lips. “Now.”
She could feel him smile, but he didn’t break their kiss as he started forward, pushing her back into the apartment, then kicking the door closed with his foot. His mouth traveled down to her jaw, brushing a soft path down to her neck, then kissed and licked a long, slow trail from her throat up to her pulse point, the one that was so sensitive beneath her ear, and sucked.
She gasped, adrenaline shooting through her. It was the same move he used to do once he found that spot, when they’d make out for hours around corners of the city, stealing every second they could with each other. The memory, thefeel, dissolved every thought from her mind. All she could focus on was his mouth, his body, every point where they touched and every point where they should.
“Is Cricket home?” he asked between kisses. “Do we need—”
“No,” she cut him off. “Just. Bedroom. Go.”
A deep chuckle vibrated from him as he started forward again, this time past the tree and down the hall. She held tight to his arms as they wrapped around her, guiding her backward until finally her legs hit her mattress.
“Like this?” he murmured against her lips.
She nodded, staring into his eyes for a long moment.
“I want to take my time with you, Annie,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “But I also know I can’t hold back. Not right now. I…”
She sat up, cupping his hand in her jaw. That was the Freddie she knew, brimming with so much want and desire and love for her that he felt like he needed a disclaimer. Permission. So she gave it.
“I don’t want you to hold back,” she whispered.
He took a sharp intake of breath, and then his lips were on hers again, hard and demanding.
Suddenly her hands were clawing at his sweater, grabbing and stretching in a desperate attempt to get it off his body. He leaned back just far enough to help, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, followed by his T-shirt, to reveal his bare chest. He had always been tall, but he had broadened in the past eight years, wide shoulders and muscled arms that caged her in over the mattress, held her in place as he pulled off her sweatshirt. Her bra. Her jeans. Her underwear.
Then he stared down at her, his gaze so searing she could feel it as he made a slow survey of her skin.
“I remember these freckles,” he said, tracing the cluster just below her left breast. “And that scar there.” His thumb came up to graze the thin, pale line across her hip from when she fell on the sidewalk when she was younger. Then he shook his head, his green eyes finally coming up to meet hers. “I never thought I’d get this view again.”
She reached up, running a hand down his chest. She wanted to say the same thing. How, even though his shoulders had broadened and his muscles had become more defined, it was still her Freddie there staring down at her. But when she opened her mouth, all that escaped was a sigh as his hand came up to trace her lips. Then he leaned forward, ghosting his mouth over hers. It was gentle, tentative, and she wasn’t sure if this was who they were anymore, here in this foreign place between strangers and soulmates, but she also couldn’t fight it anymore. So she reached up, threading her fingers into his hair, and simply stopped trying.
He groaned again, leaning over her as he deepened the kiss somuch that she gasped. Was it a gasp? She couldn’t even identify the sounds she was making, hungry and deep and so desperate she should have been embarrassed. She wasn’t, though. She could never be embarrassed with him.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling how hard he was between her thighs, his calloused fingers running up her back.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered, pulling at his hair, trying to get closer, trying to get inside him, to get back to that place she loved most.
He leaned back enough to meet her eyes again, while his hand went lower, pushing off his boxers so there was nothing between them. God, it was the echo of a memory, so like that first moment they were together. But this time he entered her slowly, carefully, as if he were afraid she was made of glass.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, still against her.
She didn’t answer, only brought her mouth to his, swallowing his moans in her own as his tongue danced with hers. He began to move his hips, the slow drag of him like torture. She let her head fall back, letting sensation take over. Her confusion and anger and worry were still there, but they were overshadowed by the building tension in her core. It tightened every tendon in her body as he continued his unyielding pace.
“Tell me you missed me again,” he whispered into her hair. “Tell me you missed this.”
“I missed you,” she cried out, eyes squeezed shut as her head fell back. “I missed this. God, Freddie…”
His hand came up to push some hair from her face, a delicate motion. “I missed you so fucking much, Annie.”
A muted whimper was her only response, but it was enough. His thrusts became hard, and his grip on her skin tightened. Thenhe leaned forward, nipping and kissing the length of her neck, whispering unintelligible things into her skin. But it didn’t matter what he was saying; she could only focus on the building tension in her muscles.
She moaned. She was close. So very close…
