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And then she says, “Because I need affection. That’s why. I like being kissed, and I like being held. And I clearly won’t ever get those things from you.”
Is she fucking kidding me?
I don’t think, I just act, grinding out, “The fuck you won’t.”
And then my mouth is on hers.
She doesn’t push me away. I’d back off if she did. But no, she’s fucking kissing me back full throttle.
As our tongues intertwine and dance, I walk her backward into the house, kicking the door closed behind me with my foot.
We hit the staircase and stumble. Willow almost falls back, breaking our kiss, but I catch her.
“I got you,” I tell her as I hold her in my arms.
Peering up at me and blinking, she says softly, “For the record, I’m not on any dating sites or using any apps. And Hector, the guy I was with at lunch, he works with me. We’re just friends. He’s not even into women.”
God, the relief I feel hearing that. I can’t even describe it.
Lifting Willow to me, one arm still wrapped around her, I caress her cheek tenderly as I confess, “I was so fucking jealous. I know I have no right to be, but I was.”
“I’m glad you were,” she whispers. “I actually did see you in the restaurant today at lunch, even though I pretended I didn’t. And then I played it up like I was on a date on purpose.”
I can’t help but laugh as I drop my hand from her cheek and place it on her hip. “You wanted me to be jealous?”
“I did.”
“Little vixen.”
She smiles, but then, in a more serious tone, she shares, “I meant what I said, though. I do need affection. But I don’t want it from just anybody. I want it from you, Arden.”
Hearing her words makes my heart soar in a way I’ve never felt, and I have to kiss her again.
So I do.
But this time I’m soft and slow, eliciting the sexiest little sigh from her, one that goes straight to my dick.
Fuck, I need her so much.
As I trail butterfly kisses down her silky-smooth neck, I murmur, “I’ll give you anything you want, Willow. Anything, you just name it.”
“What if I want you?” she breathes out.
I stop and pull back, and, as our eyes meet, she says, “Not just your body, though.” She taps my chest. “But in here. I want your heart.”
I catch her hand and hold it to my chest, letting her feel the beats as I tell her, “You already have this, babe. You really fucking do.”
Brow creasing, she says, “But you don’t do relationships.”
I blow out a breath. “That’s true, and it has been the case for a while. But maybe it’s time I try.”
Expectantly, she asks, “Do you really want to, though?”
She looks worried, but she shouldn’t be. Right here, in this moment, there’s nothing more I want to do than try to have a relationship with her. I’m not feeling the anxiety I thought I would.
I actually feel relieved that it’s finally happening.
So it’s easy to say, “With you? Yeah, I do.” I brush my finger over her full bottom lip, which I can’t wait to kiss again. But first, I have to ask, “What about you? You said you had given up on men. Does that still hold true?”
