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I lightly run my palm over the back of her head. “Anytime.”
She tips her head back from my chest, hitting me with those dark brown doe eyes, and I think for the first time I might be in serious trouble.
“Did you find out who broke in yesterday?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet. But I will.”
She hums under her breath a little. “Will you stay?”
I brush the hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear and give myself a moment to memorize the slope of her nose and the curve of her cheek, to commit every stroke of beauty on her face.
“Was already planning on it, sugar.”
Her nose wrinkles a little and I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that I find it adorable. Since when do I find something like anose wrinklean attractive quality or feature on a woman? It's a good fucking thing no one's privy to my internal thoughts, or I'd never hold onto my rep with the boys.
“What?” I murmur, reveling in the feeling of her being close.
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. It lasts a second, but I feel the spike of arousal all the same.
“Oh, it's just . . .sugar?” She kind of winces when she repeats the word I casually tossed out.
My cheeks feel hot, and I clear my throat, but I don't take my hands off of her. I don't know if I could. Unless she asked, obviously. But I'll just continue to pray to a god I don't know I believe in that she doesn't. That she'll never ask me to leave her alone. I'd fucking hate to add stalking to my list of skills.
“I've heard Nova call you sweetheart, so I just thought I could—”
“No, no, it's okay,” she interrupts me, her hands smoothing over the leather on my shoulders. “It just took me by surprise, that's all.”
I make some noise of acknowledgement and stare at this little cluster of freckles underneath her right eye. They sort of form a triangle shape with the fourth little freckle off to the side.
“I didn't take you for a sugar kind of man,” she says, a smile playing around the edges of her mouth.
“Just trying it out, but I'm not married to it or anything,” I grumble, my cheeks still feeling warm.
I grit my teeth at the existence of embarrassment. I'm not accustomed to experiencing it, and I can't say that I enjoy it much.
She laughs, and it's this light musical sound that makes my heart clench almost painfully in the most confusing way. I'll take it though, because it clears out the other pesky emotion.
She pushes onto her tiptoes, tipping her head back so our faces are only a few inches apart. A distance I could close in half a second flat. But I'm curious enough to let her take the lead here. I've waited years for her, I can wait until she's ready to make the first move.
“I like it,” she murmurs. “And I like you, Lincoln.”
Her hands slide along the back of my neck, one of them sinking into my hair. The light pressure sends prickles of awareness cascading down my back.
“Thank you for saving me. Again. My white knight,” she says, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, almost painfully sweet kiss.
It's not enough.
But I don't think it'll ever be enough. I had one night with her all those years ago, and that was all it took to start my addiction, an almost everlasting obsession. The need has waned over the years, but never dissipated fully. She was always there, just under my skin. I spent years in the shadows looking for her.
“Kiss me,” she pleads against my mouth.
Who the fuck am I to deny my girl?
I crash my mouth against hers, tasting the sweet honey of her lips. Our tongues dance together, entwining and exploring each other in a way that seems familiar and yet new.
She uses her grip on my hair to haul me closer, crushing her tits against my chest. A sensation my cock approves as it throbs against my zipper.
There's urgency in our kiss, a desperate sort of need that pounds against my limbs, begging me to leave her so thoroughly sated that she'll never be able to look at another man again without comparing them to the way I feel against her—inside of her.
