Her chin quivers slightly as she pushes it up like she wants to show me she’s tough. Her lids narrow next. “But I’m too young for you, right?” She quirks a brow. “I didn’t realize that was one of your hang-ups until you told me the other day.”
I swallow. “I was stupid. Like I said, you’re perfect. No exceptions.”
She arches her back slightly while kicking the back of her foot up against the wall. “Yeah, well, you had your chance, Bexley.”
My chest puffs with her words while tension packs my shoulders tight. Warning flags pop up in my mind—along with them, a list of reasons why I should not play into this flirtation.
She has a boyfriend.
She’s not staying.
I’m still no good for her.
But there’s not a single thing on the list that stops me from what I do next.
I place my palms on the wall on either side of her head and lean in, brushing my lips against her ear then holding them there. “I want another one.”
Her body quivers. I can feel it with only our fronts touching. “You just want what you can’t have.”
Maybe it’s the liquid courage, or the fact that I can sense the countdown to our short time together reaching its end, but it’s enough that I’m going to pursue the woman I should have never let get away.
My tongue darts out to taste her lobe, then I suck it into my mouth, causing her to gasp. “I. Want. You.”
“Your timing is impeccable. You’re too late, Bexley. Things aren’t the way they used to be. My life is in Seattle now. I have a dream job. And I’m taken.”
“Are you in love with him?” I hold my breath.
Her next breath is sharp. “W-What?”
“Are you in love with him?” I ask it slower, knowing there’s no other way to phrase it. It’s a simple question, and the fact that she’s hesitating at all speaks wonders.
“Do you love him more than you loved me?”
Silence, and then… “No.” A whisper.
My heart takes off in my chest like a jackhammer. I slide my mouth away from her ear so that her lips are only an inch from mine. “I want to kiss you.”
Her breath hitches. “I-I can’t give you permission to do that,” she whispers.
“Then I’ll take your lips and hold them hostage with mine. No one can fault you for a stolen kiss.”
Her forehead creases, and a pained expression takes over her face. “What if I tell you no?”
Just the possibility of being turned down by this woman, right here, right now, is too much. My chest hurts at the thought. “Tell me no, and I’ll walk right out that door. But you won’t do that. You want my tongue in your mouth as much as I do.” She squirms, and I lean in so my forehead touches hers, my breaths coming faster. “Fuck your boyfriend. He doesn’t know you the way I do. I might be late to the game, but I’m here to stay. And win. So, what will it be?”
She squeezes her lids closed and opens them again. “If I say no, you’ll leave? And if I say nothing…”
“Then I steal what’s always been mine.”
Moments pass. Seconds. Maybe even minutes. The whole while, I’m holding my breath, giving her every opportunity in the world to reject what she wants me to believe doesn’t belong to me. But she’s wrong. Hope was, is, and always will be mine.
My mouth moves across hers while one hand slides down the wall to the nape of her neck, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. Even the feel of her is perfection.
The last time we kissed, I was so caught up in self-loathing that I couldn’t get past my own fears. But now, my fears have changed. Not getting another chance to explore everything we should have had is my biggest fear of all. This time, I don’t want to miss a thing.
I capture her bottom lip between mine and move slowly, savoring the taste of her green-apple lip gloss and tequila-soaked breath. If she’s heaven, then I’m hell, and we’re floating somewhere in between as our lips begin to find their rhythm.
Firming my lips to hers, I snake my arms around the small of her back and push my palm into her arch. A groan from her chest rumbles against mine, and my head fogs at the sensation. Her lips could be poison, and this kiss could very well be the death of me. I certainly treat it like it will be our last.
My tongue dives between her lips, finding hers and trying desperately not to rush. I’ve been dreaming about this for too long for it to be over in the blink of an eye.
When I feel her arms wrap my back and press me closer, it only fuels my already ravenous need to live out every fantasy I’ve ever had of Hope. To touch her, to hold her, to make love to her. But none of it will matter if I can’t keep her.
Even as my mind blurs and the thundering of my heart rages on in my chest, my senses are more alive than ever before. She’s electric in my hold, buzzing through me and intoxicating every fiber of my being. I want more.
My hands find their way to her ass, squeezing then lifting her and wrapping her legs around my hips. I push her back against the wall and kiss her deeper, aching at the friction our bodies create, especially where I want her most.
“You taste like apple pie,” I murmur against her lips before burying my mouth in the crook of her neck. “I could devour every inch of you.” I swipe at her neck with my tongue and groan. “Maybe I will.”
She gasps as I rub against her center, our clothes an annoying hindrance to a deeper connection. I do it again, gently rubbing against her as she moves up and down the wall. Her chest pushes out toward me as her eyes close and she gives into our rhythm. I may not be inside her yet, but after thousands of fantasies of scenarios playing out just like this, this is so much better.
Her palms push down on my shoulders, her hips roll to match my movements, and our mouths crash together once more. This time, everything is more intense. Our tangled breaths quicken. She grips my hair. I squeeze her ass. Hardened nipples poke through her fabric, and my mouth gravitates toward them, wetting her shirt and sucking her between my lips until none of it is enough.
Growling, I yank her from the wall and take three long steps to reach the bar. The second she’s seated with her legs wrapped around my hips, my fingers slide beneath her shirt and drag it up over her head.
I cup her head and pull her mouth to mine, kissing her deeply while filling one of her breasts with my free hand. “Tell me you’re mine,” I mumble against her mouth. I need to know that from this point on, I’m the only one. No more boyfriend. No more late-night phone sex calls. When she doesn’t respond right away, I deepen our kiss until I feel her moan hit the back of my throat. “Tell me, Hope. Please. I need to hear you say it.”
Dread sinks through me when her lips slip away from mine and her head moves slowly from side to side. And then she says the words that might just kill me. “I can’t. This was a mistake. I need to go.”
She slips off the counter, scoops her top up off the floor. And then with one final heart-filled glance in my direction, she walks toward the door… then she’s gone.
Chapter Twelve
HOPE
My lips still burn from his kiss, my mind seared with images of last night. Drunk images. Sinful images. Erotic images. I can’t stop replaying them. I’m a glutton for him. A glutton for the past and all the things I yearned to have. He offered them to me last night in ways I never could have anticipated, and I wanted to accept… until my guilty conscience came in to haunt me.