“You don’t understand—”
“You don’t understand!” Standing, I take my dishes to the sink. We made promises. I made promises… “I know Taron better than anyone. Maybe even him.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” His words are the same ones Taron said to me so long ago, right before I gave him everything. “This is something you can’t fix, sis.”
“Maybe not, but he belongs to me. I’m going to get him.”
It’s dark when I arrive at the address Sawyer texted me. I spent the three-hour flight wringing my hands, wondering if my brother was going to give me what I asked of him.
He said I should wait, but it’s the last thing I intend to do. I’m pissed at him for letting Taron shut me out. He’s supposed to be on my side, the protective older brother. Instead, he won’t tell me anything other than giving me Taron’s letter.
I’m furious with both of them for acting like I’m not strong enough to handle whatever might happen. Like I didn’t sacrifice these last almost two years.
Now, standing in the lobby of the high-rise apartment, I wait for the silver doors to open. My brother said Taron lives with Marley. Patton arranged for them to take jobs at his dad’s commercial real estate firm, and set them up in a penthouse apartment.
None of it makes sense. Taron said he grew up with nothing, the only child of a single mom who moved back to the mountains when he was in high school, yet here he is living like a king. At least, that’s how it looks from the outside.
The elevator door opens to a beige lobby with deep brown, mahogany accents. I step across the small foyer and wait, trying to calm my breathing before I knock.
My hand shakes as I lift it, but my eye catches the turquoise ring on my finger.
I promised.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I knock hard and firm.
No response.
My breath is so loud in the small space. I take a trembling inhale, exhale then do it again—this time with my eyes open. I knock louder, longer, then I wait.
Even my heartbeat aches. I haven’t seen Taron in person in so long. My brother said he’s hurt; he sent me a letter telling me not to come. I’m so impulsive.
A trickle of fear, cold as ice filters through my chest. What if I find something I don’t want to see? What if his face is mangled or he’s in a wheelchair? What if his brain is damaged? What if he lost a limb?
I never actually considered the possibility. I assumed he’d be like my brother—physically whole, internally suffering.
These thoughts bombard my mind, but a calm reassurance fills my chest. It doesn’t matter—we can face any of these challenges together.
I love this man.
“Who is it?” His voice is stern through the door.
“Taron?” Mine is clear, cutting the fear.
It’s quiet on the other side.
My eyes go to the peep-hole in the middle of the door, and my breath stills. Is he looking at me right now? Will he open the door?
The seconds tick past on heartbeats… one… two… three…
Anxiety builds, tightening my chest until I hear the bolt turn. The door slides open quietly, and my eyes fill with tears when I see his beautiful face, his hypnotic eyes.
“Taron.” Rushing forward, I’m in his arms.
His scent surrounds me, and it all comes flooding back. All the nights we spent hanging on each other’s voices, living for just the sight and sound of each other like oxygen. All the times I lay in my bed, memorizing his face through the flickering screen. All the teasing and flirting, all the wishes and promises.
“You’re here.” His voice vibrates my very core.
His strong arms are around me, and my head is sheltered against his chest. I hear his heart beat, his breath swirl in and out.
“You’re real.” Tears stream down my cheeks.
I hug him with all my strength, wishing I could bleed my soul into his, give him whatever he needs, heal whatever’s hurting him, whatever’s making him say words he doesn’t mean.
He steps back, guiding me into his apartment and closing the door, turning the lock. His eyes are so weary. Small lines mark the corners, and his beard is thicker. He’s lost weight. He’s still tall, towering over me, but my brother’s right. He’s changed.
“Noel…” He slides his fingers along the line of my hair, and more tears flood my eyes.
His touch is the same.
I hold his cheeks, guiding his face to mine and kissing him. He leans into me, pressing his hand against the door behind me. His mouth opens, his tongue slides along mine, but his muscles are stiff, like he’s holding back, fighting against something.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift my lips to his ear. “I’ve waited so long to feel you in my arms again.”
His shoulders collapse, his resistance crumbles, and his arms go around my waist, gathering me to him. So much time has passed. I know he aches for me as much as I do for him. I remember the night we thought he’d come home, the twisting of my heart in my chest at the thought I might see him again.
It’s all here right now.
We don’t speak. He kisses me again, and the heat we’ve always shared flares to life. His hands move down my back, sliding under my shirt, finding my skin. A noise seeps from my throat, and I pull my shirt over my head.
With every kiss, every touch, we’ve been moving, stumbling backwards, until now we’re in his bedroom. He winces as he removes his shirt, almost like he’s been in a fight. I scan his chest for scars but see none. The lines in his torso are deeper. Yes, he’s lost weight, but he’s still so ripped.
My face is in the middle of his torso, and I rise to press my mouth to his broad shoulder, planting a kiss against his hot skin. Salt is on my tongue, and I feel his palm against my back, his other hand fumbling with my bra. Reaching around, I quickly remove it, and our bare bodies press together.
“I’ve dreamed of this so many times,” he groans.
His hand is on my face, and I feel his hardness pressing against my stomach.
“I couldn’t live without you one more day.” My voice is a gasp, and my hands are at his waist, unbuckling his belt so fast.
The space between my thighs is hot and pulsing. I’m electric all over, every touch stoking my need hotter.
“Noel…” He groans a weak protest I cover with my mouth as he sits on the side of the bed.
Shoving my pants off, I climb onto his lap in a straddle, feeling his thick cock against my thighs. I’m throbbing and hot. I’ve touched myself so many times, given myself so many long-distance orgasms to his face on a screen, his voice on my laptop.
His fingers glide lightly over the skin of my ass, and I rise up on my knees, dropping firmly, seating him fully inside me.
His groan is pure desire that curls my toes. I rise onto my knees again and drop, feeling him deep inside me, savoring the sounds of his hunger, his hands gripping my ass. He’s moving me now, pulling me up and down his dick, groaning as I ride him, chasing the orgasm rising in my stomach. With every noise he makes, my body flames hotter.
Our chests slide together, sweat and heat and hundreds of nights of need. My breasts bounce, and he catches one, guiding it to his mouth and kissing my hard nipple.
My head drops back, and I moan loudly. “Taron… yes…” My hips buck forward as my orgasm breaks, thundering through my insides.