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“I don’t want the tickets any more than I want the vase.”
“I’ve no use for them, Savannah.” He turned to face her, was struck again by how fragile she appeared. Unable to resist, he brushed his fingers over her face, smoothing back a few stray hairs. The feel of her skin beneath his fingertips branded him with a thousand memories of touching her face, of touching her body, of holding her tight while the world ceased around them.
“I want you to have the tickets. I bought them for you.”
Not meeting his eyes, she trembled beneath his fingers.
He needed to leave. He’d done what he came to do.
“I miss you, Savannah.” God, he hated making that admission, sure he hadn’t meant to. The words had jumped from him, unbidden but true.
Her gaze lifted to his and she put her hand over his. Warmth at her touch burned through him.
His heart squeezed in his chest so tightly he thought it might pop. Part of him longed to take her into his arms and promise her anything she wanted just so long as she’d keep touching him. There were too many reasons for him to go for him to do that.
Her eyes locked with his, she moved closer.
He swallowed. Hard. She was so close he could feel her body heat, could feel his already pitiful defenses melting away.
Her gaze darted to the movement at his throat, then her lips grazed his neck.
Groaning, he closed his eyes, knowing he was about to give in to the very real need within him. His lips covered hers and his body sighed with relief, with recognition of the woman kissing him. He had missed her. So very much.
Her taste. Her smell. The feel of her. Everything.
Over and over, long lingering kisses full of desperation.
“I want you so much, Savannah.”
One last time he wanted to know what it felt to be loved by her. Selfish, but he wasn’t capable of stopping of his own free will. She should stop him, should push him away, for her own sake. But she didn’t say anything, just ran her palms over his shoulders and pulled his shirt free of his pants, perhaps wanting one more time herself. She slid her fingers beneath the material. His muscles contracted.
No one had ever made his body react the way Savannah had. It was as if she had his nerve endings on a puppet string and could make them dance and sing any way she pleased.
Oh, how she pleased.
Her hands, her mouth, her body. He was a goner.
Maybe he’d been a goner from the beginning.
Whatever she wanted was hers. Fortunately, she didn’t ask him to make promises. She didn’t say anything at all, just stripped off his shirt in a few quick moves.
Her eyes ate him up, devouring what she’d uncovered and making him hard in the process. She wanted him. It was a heady sensation to look into her eyes and see that desire burn.
Why she was touching him, kissing him, now, he wasn’t going to question; he would just count his lucky stars, knowing it was probably something similar to his own reasons.
He’d needed one last time.
* * *
Savannah knew she was crazy. Certifiable.
But it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except this moment. In this moment she was going to take what she wanted. Charlie.
She shouldn’t. She knew that. But, really, what did it matter? Tomorrow night he’d be gone and she’d be alone.
Until she told him the truth.
