I carefully set it on the side table. “What’s wrong—” My question is cut off when he pulls me onto his lap, his hands firm on my hips, his eyes fierce with possession.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. About Mira. About Chelsea. About my sex life. I didn’t tell you the truth because I was worried I would lose any chance of us ever being together. And if I could go back to that first night, with Mira, I would. I would go back and never have stepped down that path. But I need to know if there is still a chance for us. If, knowing what you now know—and damn any risk to the company—if you will ever date me.”
Date. It sounds so trivial compared to everything we’ve been through. Would I date him? God, I’ve been in love with him for years. I’ve—
“Jesus Christ, Kate. You’re killing me.”
I look down, into his face, my eyes traveling over the edge of his jaw, the tensing of his lips as he swallows, the lines of worry that mark his forehead and gather at the corners of his eyes. Our gaze meets, and everything I know is there. “I want more than that,” I whisper.
I was going to continue, but I lose the words when he leans forward and captures my mouth with his.
Him
When a kiss waits for a thousand days, it erupts like a cyclone—a slow unfurling of lips, of tongues, hands ripping, clothes flying, hot swirls of breath met with a clash of frantic desire. I had always envisioned that I would take my time, that I would carefully taste her, my tongue sampling, a gentle moment that I would savor every second of. But in this kiss, we take a hundred seconds in every ten. I groan against her mouth and push her down onto my lap. Her knee moves, our hands fight to reconnect, then she is straddling me, and her hips grind down on me, and I break from her mouth just long enough to swear her name.
I’ve both feared and anticipated this moment for so long. I’ve wondered if we’d have chemistry or whether our tension was all a myth, the promise of the unattainable only hot because of its impossibility.
It wasn’t a myth. I’ve never experienced chemistry like this, each taste of her tongue, each shift of her body, the yank of her hand in my hair—each one fans the flame, my cock pushing painfully against my zipper, my skin burning to have more of her, everywhere against me. I slide my hands down the back of her pants and grip her ass, rolling with her, until she falls back on the leather couch, her hair loose and wild, her eyes burning in a way I have never seen. I pause.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asks, her chest heaving, cheeks flushed.
“Don’t move,” I whisper.
“You’re not coming, are you?” Her eyes widen and God, I fucking love this woman.
“No.” I grin. “I am definitely not coming. I just…” I just want to savor this moment. I just want to remember, forever, how she looks right now, the way she reaches for me, pants for me. I want to remember how her lips are swollen from my kiss, her heart is pounding, the glow of her skin. I swallow. “I just want to tell you that I love you.”
She slides her hand under the waist of my jeans and grips my belt, pulling me down to her. “I love you too,” she whispers, her mouth lifting to mine. “But right now, I really need you to get naked.”
I can’t argue with that. I steal another kiss as her fingers pull at my shirt, our mouths breaking apart as she pulls the cotton henley over my head. I stand and yank at my belt, nodding at her jeans. “Take those off.”
I should take her to my bedroom, but that’s too far away, and this moment feels like a mirage, one that could dissolve at any moment, her head in play, her doubts kicking, my past too much for her mind to overcome. I unbutton my jeans and push them to the floor, dropping to my knees as I move to the edge of the couch, my hands pulling on the waist of her jeans, helping to slide them down her legs, her back settling into the couch cushion as she watches me through heavy eyes.