The almost.
Theinterruption.
For a moment, I just stare at him because it’s all I can do as something sharp and aching twists behind my ribs. And then I laugh,actuallylaugh. Even though I’m still crying, the fact that he remembers those exact words too makes me feel like I’ve died and come back to life a second time.
“At least,” he adds, quieter this time, his thumb brushing my cheek, “I’ve never kissed a man and not been interrupted.”
God, please let that be true.
I won’t ask, especially not right now. Because that’s not how this goes.
“That’s tragic.”
My voice is a little lighter, something familiar finally slipping back into place. My gaze drops to his mouth for half a second before snapping back up to his eyes.
“We should fix that.”
There’s no hesitation. He moves first, or maybe I do. I don’t even know. One second there’s space between us, and the next there isn’t. His mouth crashes into mine, and…
Fuck.
It’s not gentle. It’s not careful.
It’s seven years of unfinished, of almost, of everything wedidn’t get colliding all at once.
As his tongue dives inside my mouth, I make a sound into his, something helpless and wrecked. My hands fist into his shirt, and I pull him closer like I’m afraid he’ll disappear again if I don’t.
He doesn’t. He holds me, solid and real andhere.
Without a single thought, I throw my arms around him and jump, legs wrapping around his waist. He catches me instantly like it’s instinct, like he was ready for it. His grip under my thighs is firm and steady as he moves forward until my back hits the rough bark of a tree.
The impact barely registers. Not when his mouth is still on mine. Not when I can feel him everywhere—his hands, his breath, the heat of him grounding me in a way nothing else has in years.
“Fuck,” I breathe when we finally break for air, my head tipping back against the tree as I drag in a shaky breath.
He doesn’t give me long to recover. His mouth drops to my jaw, then lower, teeth grazing, lips pressing against my neck. Then his teeth sink into my skin, and he sucks a mark into the column of my throat. I moan, and my cock swells inside my jeans.
“Okay,” I barely manage as my fingers tangle in his hair. “I was definitely never fucking over you.”
A low sound rumbles out of him against my throat. “Sounds to me like you never doubted it.”
He’s absolutely not going to play fair.
“I didn’t,” I admit.
His grip tightens like he’s anchoring me here, like he’ll never let me go. Even when he pulls back just enough to look at me, it feels as though his hold on me is crushing, but a welcoming kind. His gaze drags over my face like he’s committing it to memory all over again.
“I’m taking you back to the house.”
It’s not a question, and my stomach flips at the sound of his control and resolve.
I grin. “Not to the basement again, right?”
“No,” he growls, brushing his lips against mine. “To my bed.”
My cock gets even harder.
“Wow. You don’t waste time, do you?”
