“What is there to discuss? This was fun, but it’s over.” Her eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t place.
“Why?” I frowned, maintaining my hold on her. I feared if I let go, I’d lose her forever. “Because I fucked up once? Geez.” I jerked my fingers through my hair, turning away to pace once more.
“No. Because I fucked up.”
My brows furrowed. What was she talking about?
“I have feelings for you, okay?” she blurted.
I froze, wondering if I’d heard her correctly. Had she really just admitted to feelings?
“I broke my own rules. And I just—I can’t do this.” She placed her hands on her knees and sucked in a few deep breaths. “I don’t want to feel like I did on New Year’s Eve and today.”
“New Year’s Eve?” I asked, trying to keep up.
She huffed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I sent you a text telling you I missed you. And…you never responded. I put myself out there, and I obviously had the wrong impression.”
Never mind the fact that I’d been drunk off my ass in the wake of Mia’s bombshell. I pushed that thought from my mind and focused instead on Lauren. Not only had she missed me, but she was admitting it. This was huge.
I crouched on the ground before her. “You missed me?”
“I did.” She crossed her arms over her chest, unwilling to meet my eyes.
“Baby, look at me.” I bracketed her face with my hands.
Staring into her eyes, knowing that the anger, the hurt, were my fault broke me. But it also filled me with hope. This was the closest she’d ever come to telling me how she felt about me, at least in anything other than a sexual capacity.
And I couldn’t resist saying, “I missed you too.”
She hmphed. “You missed the sex.”
Beneath the fight, the cynicism, I sensed a scared little girl. A woman who wanted so badly to be loved but had been hurt. I understood because I felt it too. The need to defend yourself while also wanting to be loved.
Thrumming beneath it all was anger, a burning need to protect her. Whoever the fucker was who had hurt her—I wanted to break him.
“No.” I stared into her eyes, imploring her to listen, to look, to search my heart. “I missedyou.”
I pressed my lips to hers, wishing I’d done that the moment I’d walked through the door. “I missed you, and I couldn’t wait to come home.”
I took her hands in mine, my heart pounding a million miles a minute. “You know, when I bought this house, I never imagined I’d actually enjoy coming home. But you did that. With your design and your presence, you’ve created a space where I finally feel like I can breathe. Where I can be me. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you.”
I expected her to deflect, to scold me for my feelings. But her gaze softened, and she slanted her lips over mine. Our tongues tangled, her fingers delving into my hair, and it felt unlike any kiss we’d shared before. It felt more powerful and all-consuming. It felt fucking amazing.
“Make love to me, Hunter,” she murmured against my lips.
I didn’t miss the shift in her language. Usually, she said fuck me or something along those lines. Never “make love to me.”
I laid her back on the bed, lavishing her body with attention. God, how I’d missed her curves. How I’d missed her.
I took my time, stripping her of her clothes and removing mine. For the first time since we’d been together, I felt no rush. I wanted to slow down and savor this moment, savor this woman. And as I thrust into her, feeling her inner muscles clench around me, I stared into her eyes, knowing I’d never be the same. I sensed she felt it too—with every sigh, every kiss, every shudder of pleasure.
Later, as we lay in bed together after round two in the shower, I finally understood what Preston had meant. Because I finally felt like I was where I was supposed to be and with the woman I was meant to be with. And cuddling? Yeah, it was something I actually wanted to do.
“I’m so proud of you. And I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier. It just… I had a shitty time in New York.”
Shitty was an understatement. And I felt even worse for acting like an ass at Lauren’s shoot. During a moment I should’ve been supporting her, celebrating her accomplishment, I’d snapped.
I’d taken my mistrust, my anger over Mia and the baby, and redirected it at the one person who least deserved it. I knew Lauren wasn’t using me. I knew she didn’t want me for money; she had her own. Not that it compared to the vastness of my wealth, but still.
