Page 121 of Sparking Sara

“Well, damn, let’s finish getting you packed, then.” He gently pushes me off him and hops out of bed.

I laugh at his eagerness. And for the next hour, as we pack up the rest of my clothes and then my studio, we share heated glances.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I can’t remember a time when I was as happy as I am right now. And when I lock up my apartment for the very last time, I don’t look back. I promise myself never to look back again. Only forward. Because like Denver said—the past is the past.

And I know for certain that the man standing next to me is my future.

Chapter Thirty-one

The last box barely even touches the floor before I’m back in Denver’s arms. We don’t bother unpacking. We don’t waste another minute on anything.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes,” I answer breathily. “Because I’ve waited just as long.”

He cups my face, looking down at me. “Have you really?”

I nod. “It’s always been you, Denver. But I was trying to fit back into the life everyone was telling me I had. The doctors. Joelle. Oliver. You. Everyone knew more about my life than I did. And I found myself becoming a person I didn’t know. I was an actress playing a part. None of it felt real except when I was with you.”

He kisses me again, harder this time. I sink deeper into his arms, wanting nothing between us. One of his hands threads through my hair while the other explores the small of my back. I moan when I feel his erection pressing into me.

“God, I want you,” he says.

“I want you, too.”

He studies me, gauging the truth in my words. “Are you sure, Sara? Because I can wait.”

“I think we’ve both waited long enough. Now pick me up and take me to bed, fireman.”

A brilliant smile overtakes his face. “Gladly,” he says as he sweeps me into his arms.

He carries me up the stairs and to his bedroom—the bedroom I’m going to share with him until I find another place. As soon as we cross the threshold, I’m assaulted with the heady smell I’ve grown to love. His clothes. His cologne.Him.

He places me on the bed, removes our shoes, and then climbs over me, hovering like he’s awaiting an invitation. I pull him down on top of me, needing his body against me, needing his lips on mine. He doesn’t disappoint me as he kisses me again. He kisses me with so much passion it makes my heart thunder. I’ve never felt this way before. Being in Denver’s arms is the only thing that makes sense to me anymore.

He runs a finger over the scar from my trach. Then he kisses it. “A reminder of how strong you are.”

My eyes mist up. Oliver never kissed my scar. He bought me scarves to cover it up.

Denver traces the edges of the birthmark by my left ear. “A reminder of how unique you are.”

I stare into his eyes.This man. My heart is exploding with emotion.

He rolls off onto his side and brings a hand up to palm one of my breasts through my shirt, groaning in appreciation. I run my hand along his strong bicep and then down to his denim-covered hip.

He fondles the hem of my t-shirt. “I’d very much like to remove this,” he says.

I tug on the seam of his jeans. “And me—these.”

My insides are quivering at the thought of what’s about to happen. It’s still daylight outside and his bedroom is bright. We’re about to see each other completely naked for the first time. Normally, that might make me self-conscious. But not with Denver. Because he makes me feel anything but self-conscious. He makes me feel like my imperfections aren’t imperfections at all. He makes me feel like the only woman on earth. Better—he makes me feel like the only woman on earth forhim.

He sits up and reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Then he removes mine, staring at my bare breasts. In my haste to leave Oliver’s house last night, I didn’t have time to put on a bra. Not that it matters much; it’s not like I’m hugely endowed. But Denver looks at me like I’m the hottest centerfold he’s ever laid eyes on.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, just before his mouth finds my chest.

He teases my nipples with his tongue as I squirm and buck my hips off the bed. I rub his erection through his jeans, wanting to feel him with nothing between us. I fumble with the button before he comes to my rescue and does it for me. He quickly removes his jeans and boxers in one fell swoop, giving me the first glorious look at him.

I can’t tear my eyes away from his manhood as it twitches in anticipation. I reach out and take him into my hand, fulfilling all the secret fantasies I’ve had about him over the past few months. I can’t believe I’m here, in his bed, touching him.

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