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And it wasn’t enough.
He wanted to turn her around, to fold her into him and feel her heart beat against his chest, but that wouldn’t do anything to simplify matters. He couldn’t afford to feel this way about a woman who wasn’t going to stick around. He wasn’t sure he wanted to feel this way at all, but he was too intoxicated to care. Later he could blame it on the lack of oxygen.
Hell, who was he kidding? He’d blame himself. He always did.
So why don’t you own it?
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Turn around.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “What?”
He responded with his hands, drawing her in a tight circle until they faced one another. A dozen questions filled her eyes, and he ignored every one. He ignored everything but the woman who’d managed in a few short days to change his life. He ignored everything, for once, but what he wanted.
And he kissed her.
He nearly hit his knees when he felt the pleasure of those soft, sweet lips, but it was the way she fisted his shirt and held on that was his undoing. There they were, who knew how many feet above the ground, floating, and it was she who was the miracle. And he wanted more. So damned much more.
But he didn’t take it. He just held her, knowing all too soon she’d be gone. He didn’t miss the fact that she held him, too.
Or that in a matter of days, she’d be the one letting go. Hell, he needed that reminder he didn’t have to worry about good-bye.
That particular good-bye was a guarantee.
In that moment, however, it didn’t matter.
That moment was theirs.
The view had been stunning before, but now, looking into her eyes, he didn’t think he’d ever take a full breath again. His heart didn’t race. It held onto a slow, steady beat that told him he was grounded in a woman, in a moment, to which he had no right. But that didn’t stop him from wanting.
This time, it didn’t stop anything.
He threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her head, then leaned down to kiss her again, and this time there wasn’t any hesitation. She responded with parted lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss before he had a chance to run from it. But he didn’t run. He lost himself in the seduction of her mouth, in the dizzying sensation of her warmth, of having her cling to him. It was all so foreign, like he’d never known passion or hunger or the all-consuming need to become a part of someone, to lose himself in a world made for two.
The truth was, he’d just never known Rue.
And he couldn’t hold on to her any more than he could let go.
The ride back to the city was quiet. By some miracle, he found a parking spot in front of his building. He killed the engine and looked over at the woman who had so easily invaded the emotional fortress he’d built for himself after he lost Amy, when he’d been determined to avoid putting himself in the position of ever again having to let go.
“Why are you so determined to put me in a calendar?” he asked, breaking the tension. He hadn’t intended to make her laugh, but there was that sound anyway. He was starting to love it.
“In the altruistic sense, because you’d sell it by the thousands.”
He could stare at those dancing eyes for hours. “Sounds like there’s another reason.”
“Because,” she said softly, “that would be my favorite page.”
God, she tore him in two. “You do realize you already have at least a dozen photos of me?”
She tugged at the hem of his tee and leaned her head back against the seat. “Not with your shirt off.”
“You have a thing for shirtless men, don’t you?” Her fingertip had grazed his skin, and the phantom touch burned hot. He was well on his way down a dangerous road—one on which he’d stand, broken, while she conquered the world. He felt as if he was in a canyon, watching her fly. They had the same walls and the same ground, but she had a way out. She had a view he couldn’t hope to achieve. A life he couldn’t dream of. She was wild. Free. She’d never belong to anyone, and he only wanted to belong.
“Shirtless men?” she asked, dragging him back. “Honestly, not really.” She toyed with his shirt, leaving him irrationally feverish. “I don’t want to sound judgmental,” she said, “but based on personal experience, most of those male models are vapid, self-absorbed assholes. I don’t particularly look forward to working with them, but when the end result benefits something important to me, I suck it up and take the pictures.”
