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“I’m good,” he says with a churlish nod. “I’ve…” His lips split into a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve missed you.”
My eyebrows lift of their own accord, and still, I don’t move. I’m not sure I believe him either. Someone like him, impressive and successful and all man. Someone like that wouldn’t miss someone like me. Not for any reason that will lead anywhere good, anyway.
“You’re killing me, princess,” he says, squeezing the back of his neck.
“Sorry,” I say, looking down at my knees, pressed tight together beneath my poppy red skirt.
Even as I sit, I feel his gaze on the back of my neck. I squeeze my knees together tighter. I hear his footsteps before I see his Adidas. He’s standing on the hardwood, his toes flirting with the bright red shag rug that my feet are resting on. I follow the line of his strong legs up his body to where he leans against the wall.
“I signed a new contract with Portland,” he says.
I let my eyes drag up his thick, toned thighs, to his hard chest, his broad shoulders.
Wait, he’s staying? In Portland?
“Oh?” I try not to sound too interested.
“It’s a five-year extension.” He tilts his head and waits for me to respond.
But I’m lost. I don’t know why he’s telling me this. “Congratulations,” I finally say.
He chuffs and drops his head, squeezing the back of his neck again.
“I screwed up,” he says, softly. It’s different, his voice coming from a deeper place in his gut. “When we met…” He pauses as my cheeks flush hot. “I thought I was up for a different job. On the East Coast.”
“Oh.” Is he trying to tell me that the only reason he never texted or called was because he was moving?
“It seemed easier to just leave it at that one amazing night.”
My cheeks heat again, and I tug at a strand of hair from my ponytail, feeling the pain at my scalp, rooting me to something real.
“But the job didn’t happen… to be frank, I don’t think I really wanted it to.” He pauses for a moment. He sighs. “And by the time I’d signed the extension, I figured you’d moved on.” He steps closer, his shoes firmly on my rug.
“But…” He squats, placing his hands on either side of me against the bed. My breath hitches as I’m forced to look him in the eye. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My stomach flips and squeezes as heat pools between my thighs. I blink. His eyes flicker to my mouth. But I don’t move. I don’t push him away.
“I wanted to see you. I thought maybe I’d see that I’ve built it up in my head, but I don’t see that at all. If anything, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
I press my lips together, uncomfortable with the compliment, as I’ve been brought up to be.
“Am I out of line?” he asks, his blue eyes fixed on mine, imploring.
That’s when I hear a tiny tremor in his voice. He’snervous. How the hell did this happen? How did it come to this beautiful, strong, incredible man, kneeling before me, waiting for me to give him an answer.
But I can’t do casual, but maybe that’s not what he’s asking for. What I do know is that I have been aching for him, craving his touch, his whispers, his warmth. I had him for such a fleeting moment, and it wasn’t enough. His thumb ghosts the side of my skirt, and it snaps me to a decision.
“No,” I say, and he flinches.
His gaze holds mine and then drops in defeat. I realize my slip, and I reach for his cheek, his eyes flickering back to mine, wide in confusion.
“No, you’re not out of line,” I say.
His nostrils flare and his eyes narrow, heated. “Alright, then,” he says.
In one swift motion, he wraps his arms around me and presses his mouth to mine. My hands work up his hard pecs to his broad, strong shoulders and wind around his neck, tugging on his hair as he tilts my head the way he wants me, delving inside, exploring, savoring.
“I need you,” he growls into my neck. He hesitates. I realize he’s asking.
