Page 54 of After Midnight

My heart hits hard in my chest. “Maybe? I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or if my feelings should be hurt.”

Her gaze slides slowly from my eyes to my mouth, and she pushes off the edge of the sink just enough to bring her body into more contact with mine. “I missed you too,” she says, still looking at my lips. “I wasn’t going to tell you that though.”

“No?” I let my hand drift down her face and the column of her neck, then along the curve of her body, where it comes to rest along her waist. My other joins it, and I lift her up, then turn so I can put her onto the countertop, her inner thighs hugging my hips. “Why weren’t you going to tell me?”

She’s breathing a bit harder now; her breath dances over my lips, makes me want to breathe her in until my cells absorb her.

“Because,” she finally says, “I’m afraid.”

Slowly, I lean in, trailing my nose along her throat. She smells like lemon and sunshine, like heat and happiness and all the things I could use more of in my life. My delicate touch makes her catch her breath.

“What are you afraid of?” I whisper against her skin.

Her words come out trembling as she says, “Wanting you this bad.”

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. And I mean it when I say, “You don’t have to be afraid of that.” One of my hands comes up to cradle her face, fingers gently slipping around the back of her head.

“Why not?”

“Because I want you just as much. I want you more.” My fingers tighten around the back of her head, pushing through her hair where it’s still pulled up into a ponytail. “And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me to.”

I look into her eyes, look at her parted lips, look at the flush creeping up her cheeks.

She gives a small shake of her head and whispers, “Don’t go anywhere, Seb. I want you to stay here. With me.” Her hands come up, fingers gripping my T-shirt, just like they did that night I first kissed her, with the desert wind pulling at our hair and twining around our bodies.

My mouth pulls into a slow smile, and I ask, “Can I please kiss you now?”

She doesn’t speak; instead, her answer is to press her lips to mine, fingers tugging me close, ankles locking around my low back.

And my whole body lights up, nerves tingling, heat coursing through me.

The kiss starts with a feeling of thirst. We drink each other in, lips and tongues tangling, breath coming faster. Remi scoots closer to me, until her legs are locked fully around me. I break our kiss to trail my lips across her jaw, to the piercings in her ear. I nibble at the little glittering gems, then trail my tongue along her throat, making her whimper. As I begin to kiss along her collarbone, she releases her fists from my T-shirt and wraps her fingers around my face, lifting my head so I’ll look at her.

“Take me to bed,” she whispers, voice trembling in a way that makes me immediately hard. “Please.”

She never has to beg me.

I trap her lips with mine, wrap my arms around her waist, and lift her from the counter.

Then I carry her to the bedroom.

chapter 24

Remi

WHEN SEBASTIAN LAYS ME DOWN on the bed—delicately, like I’m something he’s afraid to break—I feel like I’m about to have my first time all over again. My heart is racing, my skin prickling, my lungs struggling to hold air. I’m torn between wanting to rip his clothes off as fast as I can and wanting to savor this, to explore every inch of him until the sunrise paints my walls with rays of gold and pink.

Out in the living room, the song changes again, this time to “Infinity.”

“Remi,” Sebastian whispers as he lowers himself onto the bed on top of me, my mattress dipping beneath his weight. His fingertips trace my face, then slip around the back of my head, and he slowly pulls my scrunchie out, freeing my hair so it falls all around us.

“Sebastian,” I whisper back, touching his cheekbones with my fingers, then lowering them to his lips, feeling his breath against my skin.

His eyes search mine, and they’re a rich, dark brown in this light, like rain-soaked soil or the bark of an old oak. He’s so fucking beautiful, in a way that feels real, that feels . . . true. Maybe truer than anything or anyone I’ve known before.

“Are you sure?” he asks, even as I feel the heat and pressure in his jeans, straining against me where I still have my legs wrapped around him.

His tenderness makes emotion rise into my throat, and all I can do is nod.