Page 51 of Not a Strong Enough Word

Heat. Desire. Need. I’m reduced to these three basic elements as she looks up at me expectantly. But there’s something else in her gaze that I hadn’t seen before. I think it’s doubt. As if she’s asking me to make a move again in order to give me an out if I want it.

Doesn’t she know I’ve been dreaming of the taste of her lips and the feel of her body next to mine for five long years?

As her eyebrows crease slightly, I realize that no, she doesn’t. How could she when she said herself that she thinks I’ve been better off without her?

Words tumble around my brain—how beautiful she is, how wonderful it has been to have her in my life again, how I’ve never truly stopped loving her or worrying about her. I may not have thought about her every moment of every day, but she’s been a constant white noise. I could ignore it sometimes, but not all the time, and it was always playing.

But now that she’s here, it’s silent again, as if that part of me has been sated. As if having her near me has turned down the volume on everything but her as she leans against the door, her body beneath mine, a battle between hope and concern playing out on her face.

There are no words for how I feel about her. There never have been. I’ll just have to show her.

My gaze drops to her lips, and she lets out a little relieved exhale. I capture it as my mouth meets hers. I’m greedy for it. I want every breath, every sound, every word. They’re mine now, and as she arches her back so her hips meet mine, I know she’ll give them freely.

The tips of my fingers touch the waistband of her jeans, and I groan softly at the smooth skin above them as my hands work her blouse up higher. Somehow, in a way that is both messy and sexy and so us, we make it into the apartment with the food in tow and without losing contact with each other. But as soon as the door shuts behind us, I’m on her again with more searing kisses, devouring her whimpers and moans and fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.

She takes a step back, dragging her bottom lip through her teeth. Her fingers trail a seductive line from her collarbone down the V of her neckline before she starts undoing the buttons of her shirt one by one.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks as her fingers work another button free.

“I have never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” I whisper as I track her movements. The fly of my pants presses uncomfortably against my cock as more and more of her silky skin is exposed. “Are you?”

She laughs a little, and if I could swallow that sound, too, I would. I’d keep it in a bottle close to my heart.

“Yeah. It’s…um…it’s been a while, though.” Her fingers finally free the last button, and her shirt slides to the floor, exposing a simple black bra.

I step closer to her, unable to keep my hands to myself any longer. My palms meet the skin at her waist, and I grip lightly.

“I can be gentle if that’s what you want.” I’d do anything for her, but when I kiss her neck and taste the salt of her skin, I know that’s going to be a difficult promise to keep.

“Maybe.” She tilts her head to give me better access to her neck. “Right now, I want your shirt off.”

“Hmm,” I hum into her skin. “Seems fair.” I tug my shirt over my head and let her drink her fill of my exposed torso.

Scarlett comes back to me, running her hands up my chest and tangling her fingers in my hair. “I missed you.”

I clutch her close. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Her gaze meets mine, the haze of her desire clearing a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you, Ryan. I need you to know that. So much had happened, and I thought—”

I dip my head to capture her words with another kiss. There’s more to say; I’m not fool enough to think that we’ve resolved everything that happened in the five years between us, but I’m also not fool enough to stop kissing her when my body and mind are screaming at me to make sure she knows I’ll never let her go again.

“I know, beautiful. It’s okay.” I soothe her between kisses. “I promise. It’s okay.”

Whatever we need to figure out, it can be tomorrow’s problem. Or next week’s problem, for all I care. If we can find our way back to each other after five years apart, there’s nothing between us that can’t be fixed. I’m sure of it.

Kissing a line down my neck, her fingers find my belt buckle, but they pause before it comes undone. I’ve closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation of having her hands on me again, but she’s gone so still. When open them, she’s studying my forearm.

“That tattoo.” She almost chokes on the word. “Is that…”

I raise my arm so she can see. The tips of her fingers lightly graze over the ink, following the words underneath the torn-paper design. Her lips move as she silently reads, and when she drags her eyes to meet mine again, they’re lined with tears.

“Those are my words,” she whispers.

“This was one of those moments when there was a clear before and after,” I quote. The passage is inked in my memory as much as it is on my skin. “She was never going to be the same again. Those minutes and hours in the time before seemed to stretch out of reach now. She was never going to get them back. There was only forward. Only what was ahead of her. And she had to face it.”

Twin tears fall silently down her cheeks. “Ryan…” She trails off, shaking her head.

I kiss one tear away, then another. “There has never been another woman for me, Scarlett.” I cup her face in my hands and swipe my thumbs over the wetness on her cheeks. “If I couldn’t have you with me, I wanted your words.”