One step.
Two.
With nothing but a few inches of blank space between us, I search her face.
What is she thinking?
What does this mean?
Just when it seems I've come up short, her eyes not giving much away, they fall to my lips. It's brief, but it's there—until she catches herself and looks away, swallowing like she's trying to forget it.
I should let her.
I should forget too.
I should walk away, grabbing onto the thread of the old me that's still barely holding on. It's clear Ruthie needs me now more than ever. And what I need is less change in my life.
But I can't think past the moment—not to anything but the one in her hotel room at least. So, instead of moving back, I give in.
I surrender.
I stupidly reach for her, praying to God she won't pull away.
When she doesn't, I slide my hand into the hair that still throws me every time it's down and brush my thumb gently past her pink cheek.
"Tess…" I whisper, but it's not just her name. It's a question. A confession. A warning—for both of us.
She looks back up at me, her eyes full of hope and desire—her mask of worry slipping slightly.
"We shouldn't," she says softly. Unconvincingly.
I let my hand fall, running my fingers along the outside of her arm. "I know. Trust me."
She sucks in a breath, dragging me in. "I could leave," she offers. "If that's easier."
I shake my head without a thought because it's not. I don't want her to leave more than I don't want to mess this up. Because maybe nothing about this feels easy.
But everything feels right.
Relief flickers on her face as she leans in slightly.
I weave our hands together as my fingertips reach hers, and when she squeezes back, all of my hesitation melts away—or hides at least. For now.
I slide my other palm past her jaw—slow, careful, terrified of doing it wrong after all this time. Of doing it at all. She parts her lips for me, one sweet breath calling me closer. I lean down, unhurried, savoring the way she's peering up. Yet, just when our mouths might touch, I pause, second-guessing everything.
But Tess doesn't.
She presses her lips to mine, gently at first, like we're both afraid we'll break something fragile. But when she sinks into me, I slip my hand into her hair and pin her to me. The move lights a fire in her as she grabs at the hem of my shirt with her free hand, holding onto it like a lifeline.
I exhale past our kiss. The waiting, the concern, the years I never let myself have this—all of it gone. Tessa lets go of my hand, and I miss it instantly, but when she wraps her arms around my neck, it's more than I could ask for. I scoop her up and sit her on the island.
She moans into me when I settle hard between her legs, and I know instantly that I'll never unhear it.
"Did you mean it?" I ask, ripping myself back, suddenly needing to know.
She parts her lips, but instead of her voice floating between us, giggles erupt from upstairs reminding me of… everything but this.
I sigh, but somehow my shoulders feel heavier. "Don't answer that," I grind out, reality settling as I run my hand through my hair.
