“It’s also late,” I commented.
She winced as she stood. “It’s not that late. But I did remember to eat!”
I hated how little she thought to take care of herself. At first, I wondered if it was because she was used to being dependent, counting on others to take care of her and provide her with what she needed or wanted. I doubted that John Morovov ever gave a damn about her like that. As a father should. I knew firsthand that she never asked for anything. In fact, I knew her father hadn’t provided for her because he’d given her to me as a punishment he wanted to avoid facing himself.
The more I got to know her, though, I realized that she neglected to consider her own needs because she’d been dismissed all her life.
“Come on. Let me walk you home,” I said.
She grabbed the laptop and left the big house with me. The walk to the guest house she was staying in wasn’t a long trip. Once we reached the front door, I wished that I’d had more time to spend in her sweet company.
She paused in front of the door. Sheltered by the roof of the porch and the columns that made up this entryway, it seemed more private. “You don’t need to walk me home,” she said quietly.
“I want to.”
“Then I’m sorry if you thought that you had to tonight. It is late.” She dipped her chin a little, looking shyer. “I stayed late becauseI was holding on to the hope that I’d have a chance to see you. But I’m sorry if I’m making your night even longer and keeping you up.”
I smiled at her downcast face. She wasn’t putting on a show of being demure. She wasn’t faking this coy act. She really was this eager for my approval, sincerely committed to trying to make my life better.
But what she didn’t realize was that it already was. Iwasa different man from the one I was a month ago. Not only due to my father dying, but also because I’d met her.
My life felt fuller with something to look forward to rather than facing the dread of all the changes that were forced upon me now.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” I tipped her chin up, and the contact between my fingertips on the underside of her jaw had me raging for more.
For all of her.
I’d be up late one way or another. Due to her on my mind and in my dreams.
With how reluctant she seemed to be about heading inside, perhaps uneasy about seeing me go, I had to acknowledge that denying this tension crackling between us meant that we’d let it fester. If we continued to deny ourselves, this need would only worsen.
“You don’t have to worry about me staying up all night,” I said as I stroked my thumb along her silky, smooth skin.
She stared up at me with longing, her eyes glittering with want.
“Because I tend to anyway,” I added as I cupped her face. “I stay up all night wanting you.”
I dipped down to kiss her. Deeply. Soundly. Giving her no room for misunderstanding. I lusted for her, and I was sick of pretending this raw desire would fade or go away.
She let out a soft whimper and didn’t wait to kiss me back. Her lips brushed over mine as I clutched her closer, hauling her flush against my chest. Heat hammered through me, and my dick got even stiffer, aching with the rush of blood to it as she reached up and pressed her mouth more firmly to mine.
Oh, fuck. Sweetheart…
This time, she wasn’t as shy. Unlike when I’d lost my control and kissed her in the main house, she was replying. Kissing me back. Clutching at my tie with one hand while she spread her fingers around the back of my neck. Like she couldn’t stand the chance that I might retreat.
She wanted me, too. She was this impatient to taste my lips, this hungry for my touch.
“I stay up every fucking night wishing I could have a chance to feel all of you,” I growled.
She panted, gazing up at me as she looped both arms around my neck. “I… Me too.”
Ragged breaths could wait. I crushed my mouth back on hers as I picked her up. Bare skin greeted my hand as I hoisted her up. I gripped the soft undersides of her thighs as I carried her toward the door. The closed panel was a solid surface to brace her against. Leverage mattered now as I sought to kiss her until she was breathless, to commit the hot, sexy taste of her to memory.
She clung to me, rubbing against me with a torturous rhythm. Her soft breasts sliding over my chest. Her flat stomach over the tip of my erection under my clothes.
Knowing that she needed more was the last break on my restraint.
She cared about what I wanted or needed.
