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She nuzzled against his chest and pressed her lips to his nipple. He shuddered and slid his hands languidly up her arms, over her shoulders, then down her sides. He trailed his fingers over the swell of her hips and across her belly, then down the curve of her hip. He brushed his fingertips over where they were still joined and earned a shiver from her. He couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t get enough of her soft skin beneath his hands.
She sighed and opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. She made a soft, contented sound and shifted her hips. Her pussy gripped the sensitized flesh of his cock, which was still half-hard and buried inside her.
After a moment, she pushed herself up and smiled down at him. “Are you okay?”
“That’s my line.”
“You were screaming.”
He pretended offense. “I don’t scream. I shout in a very manly way.”
“Very manly,” she confirmed with mock seriousness, lips twitching with a smile.
Laughing, he clasped her face in his hands and brought her closer for a kiss. “I love you.”
The declaration was out and hanging between them before he realized what he’d said. She stiffened.
Fuck.
The last time he’d said those words to her, her life went to hell. Would he ever be able to say them without reminding her of what happened that night?
Without a word, she lifted herself off him, and he instantly missed her heat. She sat up on her knees and snatched her shirt from the floor.
He opened his mouth to say… what? He had nothing. He closed it again. Opened it. Closed it like a fucking fish gasping for air. Finally, he managed, “Veronica?—”
She held up a hand and stood to disentangle her pants from his.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She bent over and picked up her bra and panties, then looked at him. “No, it’s okay.”
His head snapped up. “It is?”
She turned her back to him and started to fasten her bra. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to…” When she turned back to face him, the look on her face made him curse himself. She was pale, and her eyes were too wide, too bright. “I need some time.”
“Right,” he said, and his voice cracked on the word. He cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.”
She pulled on her jeans. “We’d better go. The dogs...”
“Right. Of course.” Apparently, those were the only three words he could say anymore.
She slid on her shoes and walked to the plane’s door, then hesitated before stepping out onto the steps. “You coming?”
“Yeah. Uh...” He looked around blankly at his clothes. “Let me get dressed.”
But he didn’t move after she left. He sat there on the couch for a long time, completely naked, completely confused. He ran his hands through his hair.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He was an idiot.
He was going to lose her.
No.
Fuck, who was he kidding?
He’d already lost her.
