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She’d never stopped wanting him. Not from their very first kiss years ago.
It’s only curiosity, she assured herself as she opened her mouth to his exploration. She just wanted to know if his kisses still set her on fire, if he still pushed her body beyond pleasure and into ecstasy.
The sensual movement of his mouth over hers assured that he did. And more.
His hands threaded into her hair. His fingers caressed her scalp, holding her to him. His touch was gentle, not forcing the embrace, allowing her the freedom to stop him if she desired. He was probably gloating that she wasn’t, that she was so weak that the first time they were alone she was flat on her back, making love to him with her mouth.
Then again, one could argue that it was his mouth loving hers.
That it was his hands moving over her shoulders, down her arms, caressing her as if she were the most prized treasure.
His body that had leaned to hover just above hers.
Kissing her, he stared directly into her eyes. When his mouth lifted from hers, his breath came hard and fast against her lips. “I missed you, Brielle. So much.”
She didn’t answer, because what could she say? He’d been the one to leave, the one to be in the arms of another woman when she’d gone after him mere months later.
Memories of the last time she’d seen him, of his lips on the other woman’s, of how quickly he’d moved on, gave her the strength to push against his chest.
“Stop,” she ordered, wriggling to sit up on his sofa. “That wasn’t appropriate.”
He wiped his finger across his lips. Whether he was savoring their kiss or wiping it away, she wasn’t sure. “You were as curious as I was. Admit it.”
Curious? He had no idea.
“No.”
“Not admitting to the attraction between us doesn’t make it any less real,” he pointed out, with way too much logic when her head was spinning.
“Doesn’t matter.” Why could she still feel his kiss? Taste him? She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to have new memories of him. “None of this matters. There are others involved.”
His brows formed a V. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
Wondering if she’d said too much, she closed her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“There is someone in your life?”
She took a deep breath, knowing the truth was the best policy even if she’d rather not admit it. “There is.”
He swore under his breath, seemed to consider his options and make a decision all in under ten seconds. His face serious, his expression pure dominant male in warrior mode, he met her gaze. “Then he is in for the fight of his life because I want what’s mine.”
Taken aback, she gulped. “What’s yours?”
“You. You’re mine, Brielle. You always have been. You always will be.”
“No.” She shook her head in denial. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not yours.” Needing movement, distance between them, she rose from the sofa, straightened her uniform. “I haven’t been from the moment you left me for Boston. Take me home.”
* * *
Ross drove in silence, trying to decipher what had happened between him and Brielle. Had he taken her to his apartment in the hope of luring her into his bed?
He certainly wanted her enough that subconsciously perhaps he had hoped the evening would end with her realizing how right the chemistry between them was. Either way, he’d failed miserably. One hot, explosive kiss that had filled his head with fantasies and she’d pushed him away, demanding to be driven home.
“You wanted that kiss as much as I did.”
“Do we have to talk about that again?” At his nod, she sighed as if needing lots of patience. “Fine. If your ego needs to believe that, you go right ahead and believe that I’ve done nothing but pine away for your kisses since you walked out.”
His ego wasn’t what needed to believe that she wanted his kisses. He daren’t name what body part needed to believe.
