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Connelly leaned closer. She could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears, feel the warmth radiating from him filling all the space between them, smell the faint scent of his cologne— something woodsy and warm that always reminded her of him, even when he wasn’t there. She saw the worry lines around his eyes soften as she leaned toward him. His hand moved from her cheek to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and then his fingers lightly brushed the back of her neck in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
“I love you.” He enunciated each word, his gaze never leaving hers as he drew her closer. “I always have. That’s not going to change.”
“I...” She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “I...”
He saved her from answering by dropping his mouth to hers. He broadcasted his intention, giving her plenty of time to say no.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
She wanted his lips on hers, his hands on her body, his entire being intertwined with hers. She wanted to drown in the sensation of him again like she had on the plane.
His lips were warm and familiar, offering the sense of security she’d only ever felt with him. He kissed her with a gentleness that contradicted his previous intensity as though he was afraid any sudden movement would shatter the moment.
She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and tighten their bodies together. She tasted coffee on his tongue, felt his cock hardening against her belly. Instead of inspiring fear, it made her feel... wanted. Needed. It lit a fire inside her, and she realized with a jolt of surprise that she needed him, too.
The world ceased to exist whenever Connelly kissed her. His lips demanded everything, triggering a heat to blossom inside her that swept away any lingering chill of uncertainty. She moaned against his mouth and threaded her fingers through his short, dark hair.
But he drew back to catch his breath and rested his forehead against hers. “God, Veronica. I want you so bad it hurts.”
His voice, thick and gravelly, rumbled through her blood and sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear.
This was Connelly. Her Connelly. The boy who had once played hide-and-seek with her in their childhood backyards, the young man who had looked so damn good on that tube in the Texas sun, the grown man who now stared at her with love and longing in his eyes. He was safety and warmth and comfort. Everything she had been missing in her life.
They swayed together to unheard music. He moved a hand down to the small of her back, pulling their bodies even closer together, and she could hardly breathe. He kissed her again, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, requesting permission to enter. She opened for him willingly, allowing herself to melt into his embrace, surrender to his touch. He groaned against her mouth as his tongue met hers, and something inside her snapped. It was as if a dam had burst, and all the emotions she had been bottling up for years came rushing out. The tears started flowing, hot and heavy, down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop them.
“Oh, hey.” Connelly pulled back and cupped her face in his big, warm hands, swiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head, unable to form words. She felt overwhelmed. Exposed. Raw. But at the same time, there was an immense sense of relief. Connelly had unlocked something inside her, something she had been struggling to access for so long.
“Shhh. It’s okay, Vee.” He pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close as she cried. “I’ve got you,” he murmured as he gently rocked her back and forth. The scent of him—spicy and warm—filled her nostrils and added another layer to the comforting cocoon that was Connelly.
She clung to him, her tears soaking his shirt, her body wracked with sobs she hadn’t known were waiting to be released. His arms were strong and comforting around her, his steady heartbeat thrumming against her ear. His fingers traced gentle circles on her back, a soothing counterpoint to the riotous feelings inside her.
Time seemed to stand still as she drew solace from his strength.
Finally, when she felt steady enough, she pulled back to look at him. His dark eyes held nothing but concern, framed by his too-long hair, which was even more disheveled now from where she’d been clutching at it.
“Sorry.” She swiped at her eyes. “God, I’m such a mess.”
“I like messes.” His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. “They keep life interesting.”
She closed her eyes at the contact, savoring his touch, the sincerity in his voice. When she felt steady enough, she caught his hand and turned it to brush a kiss on his palm. “I want to go to the bedroom and try this again. Without the tears this time.”
“Are you?—”
“If you ask me if I’m sure, I will smack you.”
A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Okay. But are you?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, Conn. I want you.”
“Good.”
chapter twenty-nine
Connelly swept her up in his arms, eliciting a surprised squeal from her. She laughed, the sound light and free as he carried her towards the bedroom.
