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I glance at the sleeping child. “You know men don’t grow up, right? I think me and Ella understand each other.”
Cerys laughs. “Oh, you grew up all right.”
Fuck, so did you. We’re close—if I move any nearer, the spark inside that urges me to touch her will arc between us and then... I don’t know. I’m confused. She’s hurt, I’m hurt, and whatever’s happening here would make everything worse. An intense battle rages inside not to take Cerys and kiss away the pain she’s hiding.
But I don’t want to walk out of the room and away from this moment in case we’re never in the situation again. Common sense fails and I reach out to touch Cerys’s cheek. “You’re an amazing mum, and I’m sure you’re an amazing person, too. You shouldn’t be treated like this. I want to help you.”
Cerys takes my hand and moves it away. “I’m fine. I can sort myself out. Once Christmas is over.”
I try really, really hard but fail and my gaze wanders downwards to her open jacket and the soft swell of her amazing tits. No necklace. She tugs her blue top upwards. Crap, now I’m in trouble.
I attempt an apologetic look. “I guess this time I can’t say I was staring at your necklace ?”
“No. I lost the necklace.” She touches the space on her neck where the heart pendant always hangs.
“Shame. It was pretty.” She laughs at me. “What?”
“Pretty useful because you could stare at my tits and pretend you had an interest in jewellery?”
I smirk and feign insult. “No, as if.” Cerys raises a ‘yeah, right’ eyebrow. “Was the necklace special? You were always wearing the pendant whenever I admired your… jewellery.”
She can’t help but join in the smile but her eyes tell a different story. “Yes, a special necklace. I think I lost it when I went out with Lou last night. I feel a bit naked without wearing it.”
Shit, don’t say ‘naked’ when I’m currently trying to keep images of a naked you out of my head.
“Ah, last night,” I say and chuckle.
She purses her lips. “What’s that tone mean?”
She doesn’t remember? Those lips – plump, inviting… I wish I’d kissed her. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?” she asks in a low voice.
Fuck it. “Because I want to kiss you.”
I expect Cerys to look away, blush, or walk straight out of the room. She doesn’t and her deep brown eyes reflect my desire.
“Why?” Cerys asks.
“I don’t know.” I groan. “Sorry. That sounded bad.”
The unspoken between us continues. “I don’t know why I want to kiss you either.”
I cross the last of the space between us and rest my forehead on hers, aware the speed of her warm breath matches mine. “Maybe because kissing is wrong?”
“Maybe.”
“But we should anyway?” I ask.
The long pause. Is she battling the same as I am? “Maybe.”
Cupping Cerys’s chin with my fingers, I tip her face and place my lips on hers. There’s a hesitancy from both of us. My mind says ‘gentle’ but when Cerys presses her mouth harder, I know I’m gone. My body wins and I drag her hips toward mine, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Cerys makes a small noise as she welcomes my deeper kiss, and I hear the juice cup hit the floor as she winds her fingers into my hair and presses herself into me.
Her soft lips and her sweetness have a power over me that’ll hurt because I want her more than I’ve wanted anything or anybody for a long time, and she isn’t mine.
One kiss is turning me the fuck on, mu cock hard against her hip, and if I sneak a hand beneath her clothes to touch Cerys’s skin, I’ll want to consume her like all the girls before. But this kiss is different—this kiss consumes me.
Heaving back self-control, I tone down the kiss and wrap Cerys’s small figure in my arms. I’m lost in a strange unity that I didn’t expect. Kissing Cerys is like coming home— warm, familiar, and the most natural feeling in the world. Cerys relaxes into me, letting go of the tension she carries everywhere and this intensifies my need to take care of her.
