Page 72 of Worth the Fight

Her hands fly out to grab at my shoulders, and she giggles a breathless laugh as confusion knits her brow.

“Tell me what’s going on, pretty girl. What are you thinking?”

She pulls back to catch my eye. “Wondering why you have me on top of the counter?”

I shake my head. “Why aren't you more upset about the appointment? The x-ray?”

She shrugs, reaching over to pull the tarte from the paper bag. “I think I’m just used to it, I guess. I was upset when it initially happened, and when I called you a few weeks ago, but…” she trails off, opening the top of the container and swiping a finger through the chocolate ganache. She brings it to her mouth, eyes finding mine as her tongue darts out, licking the ganache off her finger. “Maybe I’m numb to it? Maybe it’s because you’re here with me?” She takes another swipe of her finger through the chocolate, and this time, she brings it to my mouth.

I lock eyes with her as I lean forward, parting my lips and letting her finger slide into my mouth. I close my lips around her finger, cleaning off the chocolate, and when she pulls back, I let it go with an audible pop.

My hand slides down her hip, over her thigh, fingertips trailing down her calf until I reach the walking boot. Easing it off her foot, we both stare down at her toes, watching as she slowly wiggles them back and forth. “I can massage your legs and ankle later,” I tell her, raising the heel of her fractured foot and pressing a soft kiss to her skin. “Maybe that’ll speed up the healing.” I toss a wink in her direction before leaning in to steal another kiss, this one from her chocolate-stained lips.

I reach for the drawer at her hip, opening it to snag a fork. “You know what I think my favorite part of us being back together is?”

“The chocolate from Paris?” She teases.

“That’s a close second.” I abandon the fork mid-slice to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing over the smooth silk of her skirt. My throat burns even though this should be easy to tell her. Hell, I’ve told her everything, literally every other thought I’ve had.

Forcing my gaze to hers, I raise a hand to grip the side of her neck. “That time when we were apart was lonely. Not just because we broke up and I lost my girlfriend, but…you’re my best friend, Mags. You always have been. I missed our friendship as much as I missed your love, if that makes sense.” My eyes fall to her lap. “I missed my friend.”

I hear her sniffle, and when I look up, her watery eyes are looking back at me. “I missed that too, Lukas. I missed having my person.”

My forehead rests against hers, and I lean in to kiss her, feeling a tear fall once my eyes shut. The kiss deepens, and I move my lips across her face, her neck, tilting her back so I can press a kiss to her collar bone.

I tug at the fabric of her sweater, moving it down so I can kiss her chest, dipping my tongue between her perky tits. She moans, and when I lift my gaze to hers, I see the moment her eyes darken, and a sultry smile crosses her face. She leans back, using both hands to grab at the hem of her chunky gray sweater. She lifts it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor beside us, leaving her in a long, silky black dress.

I had thought she was wearing a long skirt earlier, but now that I can see the top of it, my hands are aching to pull the thin straps off her shoulders and let the silk pool at her waist. My eyes catch on something bright, something red, and I lean forward, brushing the tip of my finger along the V-shaped neckline.

Goosebumps spring up on her chest, and she shivers when my finger slides under one strap, letting it slip off her shoulders.

She reaches up, pulling off the other strap and slowly shimmying, letting it fall.

And the breath is sucked from my lungs.

She’s wearing a bright red bra, one that’s covered with delicate straps and sheer lace, and I can see her dusky nipples pebbled underneath.

“You said you wanted me dressed in tinsel for Christmas,” she breathes. “This is the closest I could get.”

“Perfect,” I rasp, my hands falling to her hips and kneading her skin.

I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her collar bone, feeling her pebbled flesh under my lips. Then I move to the other side, placing another kiss, this time letting my tongue dart out to lick against her skin.

One hand splays against her lower back, and I lean her backward, my body pressed against hers as I kiss a path down her neck, her chest, resting my face between her perky tits.

Her hands rake through my hair, and I lay her flat on the butcher block top with my body covering hers.

I’m practically climbing on top of her, the need to be next to her pulsating through my body. I pull the dress down the rest of the way, clearing her waist, and she lifts her hips as I slide it down her body, letting it fall to the floor next to her sweater.

I take in the sight before me. Her chest heaving, body flushed, legs still wrapped around my waist. I spy the chocolate tarte next to her, and an idea crosses my mind.

Reaching over, I use my hand to break off a piece of the outside edge. Her eyes follow the movement, brows raised, but I can see when the moment clicks for her, and she realizes what I’m doing.

I bring the chocolate between us, the delicate dessert resting on my fingertips, and then I turn my hand, smearing it down the center of her chest, letting the crumbling pieces land on her stomach and hips.

She gasps, but her gasp is broken off when I lower my head, sucking against her chocolate-covered skin, cleaning it off her.

My tongue darts out to lick across her hip bone, and I’m pretty fucking sure nothing has ever tasted as good as this.