And that… that does more to stoke my desire than anything else could.
My stomach flips like I’m sixteen again, standing outside after curfew, knowing I should go inside but not wanting to end the night.
“I had a really good time,” I say, because I don’t want tonight to end.
“I aim to please.”
I huff out a small laugh. “Well, you delivered.”
He doesn’t touch me right away. But I feel it anyway.
The awareness.
The pull.
Every inch of space between us feels… like this is exactly how it was supposed to go. Like we had to be tested to get here. Now.
“You’re very quiet,” I say.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
His gaze drops to my lips. And I suck in a breath.
I am a grown-ass woman.
I have a career.
I pay taxes.
And yet—I feel like a teenager all over again.
He steps closer. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
That’s all it takes.
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me in, and then he’s kissing me again.
Not slow this time. Not careful.
It’s as if we’ve been holding it back all night and we’ve finally decided we’re done pretending we can resist this pull.
I sigh against his mouth and his grip tightens just slightly, and he matches me with a groan.
My fingers grip his shirt, curling into the fabric as I kiss him back just as hard.
I want this. I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything more.
On some level, I must have always known. There was a reason why I bid on him. Chose him.
It was all inevitable.
A car peels past, and someone shouts, “Get a room!”
