My heart convulses painfully. “What?”
“I think about you.” He still won’t look at me. “All the time. Every day. I tried to stop. I told myself it was wrong, that you’d never want me, that I ruined everything. But I can’t…” He takes a shuddering breath. “I can’t stop, Mina. I’ve tried, and I can’t.”
I stare at him without moving.
“I know.” He laughs, bitter and broken. “I ruined everything and you’re afraid of me. I know I’m probably the last person in the world you’d ever trust again.”
I grab his hand.
He goes still. Completely, utterly still, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Mina?”
“Look at me.”
Slowly, he turns his head. His amber eyes meet mine, and there’s so much fear, hope, and desperation in them that it makes my chest ache.
This is the Cristiano I’ve been longing for beneath the cold exterior and the four years of silence. Sweet and vulnerable and real.
And God help me, he’s more beautiful than ever.
“If you keep looking at me like that,” he says, his voice rough, “I’m going to want to kiss you.”
I should remind myself of all the reasons this is a terrible idea, but I’m not thinking. I haven’t been thinking since I climbed on the back of his bike. I’m just feeling. The warmth of his hand in mine, the heat in his eyes, the ache in my chest that’s been there for four years, waiting for this moment.
I pull him to me. His lips meet mine, and the world falls away.
He kisses me like he’s been waiting for this ever since our last kiss. His mouth is soft and gentle, and I melt into him the way I melted into his back on the motorcycle.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against mine.
“I know it already happened years ago, but this is how I always imagined our first kiss,” he whispers. “With you looking at me just like that. Wanting me. Needing me.” His thumb tracesmy cheekbone. “I’ve dreamed about this, Mina. You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this.”
I don’t have words. I just pull him back to me, kissing him harder, deeper, pouring four years of confusion and longing into the press of my lips against his.
He groans in the back of his throat, and his hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head.
This is happening. This is really happening.
And then, like a bucket of cold water, a thought cuts through the haze. I pull back with a cry. “Wait.”
He freezes immediately, his whole body going tense. “What’s wrong?”
“What about Valerie?”
His lips twitch. “Valerie?”
And I know he meansValerie’s not important.
He cups my face in his hands, his eyes locked on mine. “There’s no one else, Mina. There’s never been anyone else. Just you. Only you.”
The words wrap around my heart and squeeze.
I smile. I can’t help it. And then I’m pulling him down onto the bed beside me, and he goes willingly, carefully arranging himself so he doesn’t jostle my ankle, his body warm and solid against my side.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
