Page 39 of Shea's Hero

Hope. Desire. Affection.

And maybe the same love I still feel for her.

“Oll…”

“Shea?”

I want to kiss her more than anything, and I think she wants it, too. But I don’t want to assume. Take something she’s not yet ready to give.

“I want…” Her teeth dig into her lip. Pink rushes to her cheeks. “I want to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

And that’s the permission I need.

Leaning forward, I cup Shea’s cheek. Her skin is like the softest silk beneath my fingers.

As she moves towards me, her lips part. I’m close enough to see her pulse fluttering in her neck and the little flush rising across her chest.

Though I’m desperate to kiss her, I also want to take my time. Commit each tiny detail to memory.

The way her pupils dilate, leaving just a thin ring of blue around them.

The feel of her hand on my leg as she uses it for balance.

Her scent wrapping around me, a sultry aroma of vanilla and musk.

A breath away from each other, time seems to slow.

Everything else fades in importance.

It’s just us. Finally coming together again.

Then we kiss.

But it’s so much more than that.

It’s feeling Shea’s soft lips against mine, tasting of coffee and chocolate and sugar.

It’s the tiny nips she gives me before stroking away the slight sting with her tongue.

It’s her hand on my neck, tugging me closer.

It’s the zips of electricity and heat racing through my body.

Kissing Shea feels like coming home.

Unexpectedly, my eyes burn.

I didn’t realize how much I missed her.

While I could kiss Shea for hours, would love nothing more than to pull her onto my lap and ravage her, logic tells me it’s not the time or place. Not in a restaurant with our server about to come back with our drinks. And not on our official second first date.

So I pull away, hating every second of it.

But it’s not the only time. There’ll be many more kisses. I’ll make sure of it.

Shea blinks at me, her gaze slowly refocusing. Her lips are rosy and kiss-swollen, and I gently run my thumb across them. She starts, “That was?—”

“Perfect.” I kiss her softly this time, only lingering for a second. “It was perfect.”

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