Page 26 of Echo’s Secret

"Then you're still Theo's mother and this is still your home for as long as you need it."

God. How does he do that? Say exactly what I need to hear without even trying?

"I want to kiss you," I blurt out. Then immediately wish I could take it back.

Wesley goes very still. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But I don't know if I should. I don't know if that's moving too fast or if it's a terrible idea or if I'm just feeling grateful and confusing that with something else."

"What do you think it is?"

I think about it. Really think about it. What I feel when I look at him. What I felt this morning when he held Theo for the first time. What I felt on the overlook when he talked about building a future together.

"I think it's the same thing I felt before," I say honestly. "When we were seeing each other. Before I ran. That feeling of being less alone. Of finally finding someone who understands."

"That's not gratitude."

"No. It's not."

"Then if you want to kiss me, kiss me."

This is it. The moment where I either step forward or step back. Where I choose to try or choose to protect myself.

Chapter 7 - Echo

She steps forward.

Just one step, closing half the distance between us. Her hazel eyes are wide and uncertain but determined. She's scared as hell and doing it anyway.

What kind of man would I be if I let her come to me? If I made her take all the risk while I stood here waiting? I taunted her. Told her to kiss me if she wanted to. And she stepped forward, meeting me halfway.

Now it's on me to take the reins.

I close the remaining distance in one stride and pull her into me, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her waist. She gasps against my mouth just as I capture it with mine.

I kiss her like I've been starving. Like she's oxygen and I've been drowning. Like nothing else in the world matters except the taste of her lips and the feel of her body pressed against mine.

Her mouth is exactly as I remember. Those beautiful, plump lips I thought I'd never kiss again. She makes a desperate sound in the back of her throat, and her hands come up to clutch at my shoulders.

Not pushing away. Pulling closer.

God, I missed this. Missed her. Missed the way she tastes like coffee and something sweet underneath. Missed the way her body fits against mine like we were made for each other.

I deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against hers. She opens for me immediately, no hesitation. Her fingers dig into my shoulders hard enough that I'll probably have marks later. Good. I want her marks on me.

We move without planning it, stumbling sideways across the room, still kissing, mouths fused together. My back hits the dresser. We spin and her back hits the wall. Neither of us willing to break apart even long enough to breathe.

I walk us backward until we're near the bed, then change direction. The desk. The window. Moving constantly, consuming each other.

Hannah's hands slide down my chest to the hem of my shirt. She tugs at it impatiently, frustrated. I break the kiss just long enough to grab the back of my collar and yank the shirt over my head. It falls on the floor somewhere behind me.

She stares at my bare chest, eyes squinted with pure lust. Runs her hands over my skin like she's remembering me. When her fingers trace over the scar on my ribs, I catch her wrist gently.

"Your turn," I say, voice rough.

She doesn't hesitate. Just grabs her own shirt, pulls it off, and lets it fall beside mine. She's wearing a plain beige bra, nothing fancy. It doesn't matter. She's fucking gorgeous. Curves everywhere. Soft stomach, full breasts, hips I want to grip while I make her forget her own name.

"You're staring," she says, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in.