Page 81 of High Water

“And now?” I ask.

“And now, through some peculiar twist of fate, you’re stuck with me for the same reason we were torn apart. So I’m going to be on my knees proving to you I can be the man you need.” He stares up at me, his eyes glimmering with the kind of hope that makes my heart flutter in my chest.

I brush a damp lock of hair back from his forehead.

“If it helps, the girl who loved you so much, the part of her that still exists after all of this… She’s still rooting for you.”

“And the skeptical woman with the guarded heart and the body that looks like sin?”

“She likes seeing you on your knees like this.” I smirk.

His eyes darken as his lashes fall, and he kisses my hip again. He makes his way slowly across my waistband, kissing and nipping me with teasing strokes of his tongue as I twirl locks of his curls around my fingertips. The sight of us in the mirror catches my eye, and my gaze drifts over the tattoo again.

“Why did you get it?”

“Losing you felt like I lost myself. It was the darkest point of my life, like I was lost in a forest and might never find my way out. I couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think straight. Thinking of you out there, never able to see or talk to you again. Never touch you again. It got to the point where every time I thought of you, it felt bleak. A sweeping darkness that was always threatening to pull me under. I missed you so fucking much.

“You’d been the one bright light in my life. Your family too, of course. But you were living up to your name, like an aspen in the fall, brilliantly outshining everything around it. You were patient with me in a way no one had ever been before. You always waited for me to come around. Just like you said. However much time I needed. However much quiet you had to sit with me in. You never asked for things I wasn’t ready to give. You trusted I would when I was ready. So I figured if you could wait like that, never knowing for sure, I could do the same for you. I could wait for that day. Trust that someday we’d make it back to each other, and one day you might be ready to fall again.”

All I manage in response is a small, muted gasp. He grins at me in return, kissing me twice more before he presses his forehead to my abdomen and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t even have words,” I say at last.

He sees me struggling with my emotions and smirks in a way that has mischief dancing behind his green-gold eyes. I’m in so much trouble.

“But, honey, I have to tell you honestly, right now, I’m thinking I got it so I could see what these long legs looked like draped over my shoulders, framing it.”

“I’m thinking I want to see what that looks like too.”

He tilts his head all the way back, his gaze meeting mine in question. Asking me if I’m seriously giving him permission.

“I’d be cruel as hell if that speech didn’t earn you something.”

“Your brand of cruelty just makes the reprieves I get sweeter.” His smirk turns lopsided as he tries not to grin.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I tease him.

He wastes zero time once I’ve given him the permission he’s seeking. His fingers anchor into my waistband and drag my shorts down with my panties over my thighs and legs. Every inch of it feels like torture, and my nerves flicker with the sudden pulse of anticipation. My hand goes to his shoulder as I step out of them for balance, and he turns his head to kiss my wrist.

“Get on the bed.” He jerks his chin, and I take two steps back while he crawls the two steps on his knees, his hands ghosting down my legs as I sit on the edge of the bed. My heart kicks up in my chest, pitter-pattering to the rhythm of my nerves. A million what-ifs drift into my mind and straight out again when he speaks. “Spread for me. I want to see my reward first.”

I do as he asks, feeling vulnerable and sexy all at the same time, and his hands drift up the inside of my thighs, his eyes locked on me as he lets out a soft groan of anticipation.

“I can’t tell you how many times I thought about this. How many nights I spent imagining the way you look. Cursing myself for taking for granted the way I used to crawl under those sheets of yours in the middle of the night and spend hours making you come like this.” He makes his way up the inside of my thigh with slow, languid kisses, punctuating each thought he has with them.

“The night you snuck into my room to confront me when you got back. After you left… I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” I confess when he’s inches away from taking what he wants.

“Tell me you touched yourself while you did it.” His lashes lift.

I nod.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against my skin, teasing me with peppered, soft touches of his lips to mine that have me drawing in a sharp breath. “Did you let yourself come while you thought about me?”

“Yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Not as good as I remember the real thing being,” I answer truthfully. I could get close to the same sense of satisfaction but not quite there. Not without his eyes on me and his voice talking me through it.