The clock on the wall ticks too loud, reminding me as the minutes go by that he’s not coming back. The smell of the chicken parmesan I couldn’t wait to eat, now makes me nauseous. Still trying to soothe myself, I curl my body inward as I stare blankly at the door, trying to process what just happened. I thought…. I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought—only it matters too much.
I pick myself up off the carpet, wiping my nose and cheeks against my shirt. Padding over to the table and trying to ignore the roses, I blow out the candles and stack the plates, carrying them back into the kitchen. Since my appetite is shot, I cover the food and store it in the fridge.
An abrupt knock on the door startles me. For a moment, I consider not answering it because I’m kind of a mess right now. But maybe it’s Troy, and that would be a good thing.
I leave the plates on the counter and head for the door, doing one more swipe of my face with my short-sleeve. When I open it and see Vance standing there, my pulse races and a tiny seed of hope sprouts in my chest. His expression is completely unreadable and I back up a few paces until he’s inside the house.
The door closes and he leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. More tears spill onto my skin as he mutters to himself, moving his head from left to right. “You and your freaking Mickey Mouse shirts.” Another shake. “You’re like a fucking light I can’t look away from.” He takes two steps until he’s standing in front of me, warm breath fanning my cheeks, palm reaching out to cup my chin. His eyes land on mine. “What the hell have you done to me? I walked up and down this damn block for thirty fucking minutes, and I realized one thing. It’s too late for me to turn away now.”
“You came back…,” I mumble, stunned, messy tears crawling down my skin. “You chose life.” My breathing speeds up as his head dips down until his lips are inches from mine.
“No, Ember.” He brushes his fingertips across my cheek. “I chose you. I love—you.”
And then he kisses me.
His hands dive into my hair, fingers tangling through the wavy strands. The warm press of his lips, the soft sweep of his tongue, the way he holds me—it’s as if there is nothing else that exists beyond right now. The world falls away for me too, save for the sound of our breaths mingling, our hearts beating too hard in our chests.
He eases out of my mouth, his hot breath pouring over my ear and goose bumps prickle my skin. I’m suddenly too warm, my clothes too tight, my skin too wanting—and God, do I want him. His hands slip under my shirt, calloused fingertips brushing over my skin and I shudder.
“Are you… hungry at all? I made food.” My voice is unsteady, breath coming in short pants as his tongue slides along my neck.
“I am….” He blows lightly over the wetness left behind and I shiver. “But I have everything I want to eat right here.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.” I moan, his grin soaking into my skin.
“I have a feeling you’re going to be thinking that a lot tonight.” My pulse skyrockets, the space between my legs growing warm. “I want to do dirty things to you.” He nips my ear. “You don’t mind dirty. Do you, Mickey?” His voice is a low rasp and everything inside me melts. I’m dying to feel him under my fingers. Sliding my arms around his waist, I wedge my hands under the seam of his shirt, dragging my fingertips up and down, back and forth over the curve of his spine. Ridges of lean muscle contract under my touch. His skin is smooth and I want to feel every inch of him. I let my fingertips drift lower, and he shivers when my hand slips under the waistband of his jeans.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I murmur, pulling his hips to mine. His lips continue to set fire to my skin.
Without warning, he throws me over his shoulder like I weigh absolutely nothing. “I’m a little anxious now,” he admits, and I laugh until his strong hand starts massaging my ass. Then I can’t seem to focus on anything but the fact that I want that hand between my legs and our clothes off as soon as is humanly possible.
“You’re awfully quiet there, Mickey,” he says, and I smile as I hang over his back, breathing in the scent of his soap and admiring his legs as they stride up the stairs.
“Just enjoying the view.”
He chuckles, squeezing me harder. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Once we make it past my door, Vance sets me down. I walk over to flick on the dim lamp beside my bed, his eyes following me around the room. “So,” I glance up at him with a coy smile, “clothes or no clothes.”
Vance grins, stalking over to me. His grin alone makes me crazy and my body burns with anticipation. In front of me now, he brushes the backs of his fingers down the front of my t-shirt, grazing the tip of my nipple. That faint touch sends me reeling. “Definitely no clothes.” Grasping the hem of my shirt, he lifts it up and over my head. He tosses it behind him and his eyes glaze over when he sees my black lace bra. The two hours I spent agonizing over it seems to have paid off. “Fuck.” He swallows, raising a finger to toy with the edge of the lace and a slight tremble racks my body. His gaze reaches up to mine. “Nervous?”