A breath shudders past her lips before she kisses me, slow,searching, like she’s trying to map every inch of what we lost, what we’ve found again. I groan into her mouth, my fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head so I can take more, give more.
She tastes like home, like everything I’ve been missing and I don’t want to come up for air.
Her hands frame my face, her thumbs brushing against my cheekbones, like she’s trying to memorise me. “I missed you,” she murmurs against my lips.
My grip tightens on her hips. “You have no idea.”
I press my forehead to hers, my breaths ragged. “A week apart felt like a lifetime. I hated every second of it.”
Her fingers slide down my chest, her eyes searching mine. “Then don’t leave again.”
Something breaks open inside me.
“I won’t.” I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I couldn’t if I tried.”
Her lips part, her breath hitching. “Ben…”
“I love you, Lila.” The words tumble out, rough, raw, irrevocable. “I have for years, and I will for the rest of my life.”
A soft, broken laugh escapes her, tears welling in her eyes, but she smiles and then she launches herself at me.
Her lips crash against mine, her hands fisting my shirt, desperate, frantic, like she’s been holding it in for years and can’t bear another second of silence. I groan against her mouth, my grip on her hips tightening as she presses into me, claiming me just as much as I’m claiming her.
“I love you too,” she breathes between kisses, her voice shaky, wrecked, perfect. She presses a hand to my chest, right over my pounding heart, like she needs to feel it, needs to know this is real.
I capture her mouth again, tilting my head, deepening the kiss, pouring every bit of longing, of lost time, of everything I can’t put into words into her. She moans against my lips, her nails scraping down my chest as she shifts in my lap, her hips pressing down, driving me to the edge of insanity.
“Show me,” she whispers, her voice thick with need, with urgency.
Something inside me snaps.
I groan, my hands gripping her thighs as I lift her slightly, my fingers bunching the fabric of her dress, pushing it up and out of my way. She’s already bare beneath it, and fuck, I nearly lose my mind.
She gasps when I press my palm between her legs, finding her hot, wet, ready.
“Christ, Lila,” I rasp, my control hanging by a thread.
She grinds against my hand, her breath stuttering. “No teasing, I need you. Now.”
I don’t hesitate. My fingers work at my belt, my trousers, shoving them down just enough, freeing myself, my cock aching to be inside her.
She rises slightly, guiding me to where we both need and then she sinks down, taking me in one smooth, desperate motion.
A strangled groan rips from my throat.
“Fuck, Lila.”
She cries out, her hands gripping my shoulders, her body stretching, adjusting, clenching around me like she was made for this. For me.
I thrust up into her, my grip on her hips bruising as she moves, riding me, taking me, owning me.
Her head tips back, her moans soft, breathless, perfect and I can’t stop kissing her. Her throat, her jaw, her lips, wherever Ican reach.
“Look at me,” I demand, my voice rough, desperate.
She lifts her head, her gaze locking onto mine, blown wide with pleasure, with something deeper, something real.
“I love you,” I rasp, pumping into her, meeting her every movement.
