Page 96 of What Remains

“I could think of a few more things,” I say, far too intimately. “But I’m about to rescind my offer on the hug if you don’t hurry.” I gently tug her over, needing to break the tension before I wind up opening my mouth and admitting a hell of a lot more. “Get over here already.”

She chuckles. “Want this hug done that badly, hmm?”

“Of course I do. Just because I’ll do anything for ya, doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy doing it.” I wink, and she finally makes the move. She climbs on top of me, knees on each side of my thighs as she settles in.

Her ass on my crotch is fantastic in helping with my plan to behave.

She readjusts, linking her ankles between the couch cushion and my back, sinking even deeper against me. “Sure I’m not hurting any part of you?”

“Nope.” But where do I put my hands? On her hips feels too intimate. On her face? Nah, that’s even worse, because I’ll wind up dragging my hands into her hair so I can tilt her chin back and . . . At my sides it is.

She rests hers on my shoulders, rotates her ass—the tease—and searches for my eyes. “Well, are you going to hug me or what?”

“Aren’t I?”

“Hugs require touching.”

“Oh do they now?” I smile.

“Mm-hmm.”

I buck my hips. I’ll chalk it up to an involuntary movement of my body and nothing more. “I am touching you.”

She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

Trouble, all right.

“Touch me more,” she murmurs.

I bite down on my back teeth, search for my sanity and self-control, and then I cave. I wrap her in my arms and guide her closer so that her head is beneath my chin.

She scooches forward and snuggles against me, like I’m her human pillow.

I shut my eyes, and we stay like this for a few minutes. Holding her feels like I have my arms wrapped around the possibility of forgiveness and hope and all the things that are good in the world.

“Feeling better?”

“Getting there.” She shifts her position a little, catching me by surprise when she nuzzles her nose against the side of my neck.

I could get used to this. But when she kisses the same spot, I almost snap, nearly flipping her over so I’m on top. Wyatt’s daughter. That truth marinates in my mind, but the words can’t form into anything solid. They remain letters and sounds that I can’t latch on to. Because she’s kissing my neck again. And all the reasons in the world to behave don’t seem to matter as she buries her fingertips into my biceps, rocking against me while her lips follow a pathway along my jawline up to my ear.

I’m not prone to goose bumps, but she’s ushering in an entire wave of them as she brushes her mouth over my skin. And I’ve lost my mind, because not only do I not tell her to stop, I stretch my neck and angle my head to give her better access.

“What are we doing?” I finally manage to get out instead of the word stop. I also can’t seem to prevent my dick from getting hard, and she’s going to feel my response to her.

“You don’t have gum. Giving you the scent of it instead,” she whispers between kisses. “That’s all.”

“Oh, how kind of you.”

I’m vaguely aware that I’m growing lightheaded and becoming numb to reality with every second she kisses my throat. But when she rocks against my erection, I realize she’s testing the waters. Finding out whether we can find a distraction in more than a hug. And I just . . . can’t. Not now. That knowledge doesn’t stop me from gently fisting her hair, urging her to look at me.

Her eyes land on mine, and I’m at a loss for words, so she’ll need to do the talking.

“Want me to stop?” Her voice is small and shy, like she’s nervous about my answer.

I don’t say no.

Don’t say yes, either.