Page 72 of Worth the Fall

She nods, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay."

The second we step inside her building, I can’t hold back anymore. I pull her against me, my hands sliding to her waist as my lips claim hers. It’s not gentle—it’s hungry, desperate, like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to kiss her again.

She responds instantly, her arms wrapping around my neck as her body presses against mine. Her bag falls to the floor with a dullthud, but neither of us notices.

"Miguel," she breathes against my lips, her voice soft but laced with urgency.

I slide my hands up her back, my fingers tangling in her hair as I tilt her head back, deepening the kiss. Every touch, every breath feels like it’s not enough—I need more.

We stumble into her apartment, the door closing behind us with a soft click. Her fingers tug at my jacket, pulling it off my shoulders as I back her against the wall.

Her eyes meet mine, wide and full of heat, and I lean in, my lips brushing her ear as I murmur, "The man you met at the pickleball court is still here. But he’s nothing compared to the man who wants to make you his."

She shivers under my touch, her hands clutching my shirt as if I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Let me prove it to you," I whisper, my lips trailing along her jaw, down to the curve of her neck.

Her response is a soft moan, her head falling back against the wall as my hands explore her curves, my lips tasting every inch of skin I can reach.

In this moment, nothing else exists. It’s just her—her warmth, her scent, her everything—and the unrelenting need to show her exactly what she means to me.

Her head tilts back, her breath coming in shallow gasps as my lips move along her neck, teasing the sensitive skin just below her ear. Her fingers grip the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, her need matching mine in a way that drives me insane.

"Miguel," she whispers, her voice trembling, but it’s not fear—it’s anticipation.

"Say it again," I murmur against her skin, my lips brushing the hollow of her throat as my hands slide down her sides, pulling her flush against me.

"Miguel," she repeats, her voice softer this time, like a prayer or a secret just for me.

I growl low in my throat, the sound reverberating between us. "You don’t know what you do to me," I tell her, my lips brushing hers in a teasing almost-kiss.

Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine, and in them, I see everything—trust, passion, vulnerability. "Then show me," she says, her voice steady despite the flush on her cheeks.

Her words light something inside me, a fire that burns hotter than anything I’ve felt before. My hands move down to herthighs, gripping just above her knees as I lift her effortlessly. She gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist, her hands flying to my shoulders for balance.

I continue pressing her against the wall, my mouth crashing against hers in a kiss that’s equal parts passion and possession. She melts into me, her body molding perfectly to mine as her fingers slide into my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.

"You’re mine, Mia," I say between kisses, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "Every laugh, every smile, every inch of you belongs to me now."

She pulls back slightly, her eyes locking on mine, her lips swollen and glistening. "I’ve been yours since the day you walked onto that pickleball court," she whispers.

I stare at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that," I say, my voice rough with emotion.

Her hands cup my face, her thumbs brushing along my jaw as she leans in, her lips a breath away from mine. "Then let me show you how much I mean it."

I carry her away from the wall, her legs still wrapped tightly around me as we move deeper into the apartment. The sound of our labored breathing and the occasional laugh fills the space as I maneuver us toward the couch, but she pulls me in for another kiss, and my balance falters.

We tumble onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs, her laughter bubbling up as I land half on top of her. "Smooth," she teases, her fingers trailing down my chest.

"Planned it," I reply, grinning as I lean down to kiss her again. "Every second of it."

Her laughter fades into a soft sigh as my lips move against hers, my hands exploring every curve, every inch of her that I’ve been aching to touch. She arches beneath me, her bodyresponding to mine like we were made for this—made for each other.

"Miguel," she breathes again, and this time, it’s a plea.

"I’ve got you," I whisper, my voice steady as my hands cradle her face, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. "I’ll always have you.”

“Show me,” she whispers with need.

---