Page 39 of One Vow

I dragged myself away from the wall and was almost to the kitchen where I planned to eat all the ice cream and junk food in the house, then maybe work on the hidden bottle of vodka I kept at the very back of the freezer. I had no intention of chasing him. This was my idea. He had to go. It was the right thing. And I was about one second from telling myself to go to hell and running after him when the door opened and he stalked into the empty bedroom, came out the bathroom door, then finally turned to see me in the kitchen.

Without a word, he pulled me against him, held my face in one hand, my waist in the other, and kissed me.

“I can’t marry her.” He pulled back and grinned. “Because I’m married to you.”

“Yeah. We’re very married.” And I kissed him.

“And I don’t want to be blackmailed into giving you up.”

We were deep into another kiss before it registered. “What? She’s blackmailing you?”

He kissed a line along my jaw then his warm breath brushed my throat as he lifted his head enough to whisper, “It’s always been you, Lis.”

And like the magic words they were, my clothes just started falling off. My shirt landed on the back of the sofa as we walked, lips still fused together as we passed it toward the bedroom. My shoes ended up one by the bathroom door, one by the wall inside my room. My jeans beside the bed. His clothes also disappeared though I couldn’t say where. But not a stitch of fabric remained between us when he laid me on the bed and leaned over to kiss me.

Time had no effect on him. His body was still etched with muscle. His hands still knew every spot to touch. And his mouth made me thankful for teeth and tongues and things I’d always taken for granted.

He moved onto the bed beside me and smiled. “You’re still so beautiful.” He ran his finger from my collarbone, between my breasts to my belly button, made a circle then retraced the path. Soft. Dizzying. And I closed my eyes to delight in the touch.

He kissed me and repeated the process while his tongue worked magic in my mouth, this time, he dipped his hand lower, skipping the part I wanted touched to run his palm over my thigh, to my knee, and back again.

“I love your skin, Lis.” Then he kissed me again while he stroked the inside of my thigh and finally ran his finger over my clit. I gasped. And he didn’t wait. He pushed his fingers inside me, touching, teasing, using his thumb to make small circles that built pressure low in my belly.

Heat spread through my limbs, and he swallowed my every moan and whimper, his hand making delicious circles while his kiss went from passionate to carnal, from wild to feral. He tore away to take my nipple in his mouth and my back arched. His tongue teased in concert with his fingers as his mouth pulled and my clit responded.

“I can’t wait, Lis.” He climbed on top of me and I wrapped my legs around him. Pulled him in. Held him there until my ignored and unused body adjusted. He was hard and hot and kissing me like we only had today. Maybe we did. Maybe tomorrow there wouldn’t be an us. But I didn’t care. Tomorrow could handle itself. Right now, I had the only man I’d ever wanted, the only one I would ever love.

He curled his fingers into my hair, and I moaned at the exquisite pressure. I wanted more. I wanted fire and passion and to drive him as crazy as he was making me. I tried to turn us, but he grinned. “Not this time. Next time, okay?”

If I said no, he would shift us, but we had all night. In case there was only to be this one, I was going to have plenty to remember when I needed it.

His hips thrust and I lifted mine to meet him. Primal. Needy. Desperate for more of him.

The pressure imploded. Splintered and fractured.

Above me, his body went tense and he groaned with effort before he shuddered and collapsed.

“Fuck, Lis.”

I knew the feeling. I just couldn’t speak it.

Finn rolled off me. “I forgot a condom, Lis.”

I took health class in seventh grade. I knew that pregnancy could happen the first time. The second time. The two-hundred and ninety-fourth time. But right now, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“That’s okay.”

He kissed my shoulder and turned to face me. “Should we talk about this?”

Talk about the fact we’d crossed a line we couldn’t uncross? Talk about what was going to happen tomorrow? Talk about Beth Cooper blackmailing him?

“No. We should rest up for round two.” I pulled the side of the blanket over us and laid my head on his chest.

“Lis…”

“Shh. Don’t ruin it.” Tomorrow was soon enough.

And by morning, we’d discovered any and every detail we might have forgotten about each other. Rekindled the desire. Amped up the passion. Touched and tasted each other. Slept wrapped together in a tangle of limbs and blankets. But it was tomorrow. Time to face whatever was going on. And I couldn’t face it naked, lying beside him.