Page 66 of That One Night
Wishing he’d kiss her again.
“We’ll work it out. But you need to go now,” he told her, his voice thick. His message was clear. He wanted her, but not enough to get involved in this mess. And she couldn’t blame him. It was hers and hers alone to deal with.
But after? The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine.
“I’m going,” she whispered. And then she stepped back from his touch.
He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t do much of anything. Truth was, he’d been a mess since he’d gotten back home, carrying the bucket of dirt with him. He’d taken a shower, made his dinner on autopilot, then he’d headed into his bedroom.
It was almost eleven. He should be asleep. After last night's tossing and turning, his body craved oblivion more than anything else.
And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d looked as she’d whispered what a mess she was.
Like she was so damn alone. God, he knew how that felt.
It was like listening to a song you know all the words to even though you’ve never heard it before.
And damn, how she called to him. He ached for her. He was hot and hard and his heart felt like it was too big for his chest.
Sighing, he climbed out of bed. He’d get a drink. Take another shower. Try to push her out of his mind. At least for a few weeks.
He could wait that long, right? The end of her deal with her ex wasn’t exactly a lifetime away.
But it felt like it was. He felt like he couldn’t go on like this for another minute, let alone for longer.
“Fuck.” He dropped his head into his hands. He was losing his mind. That was it. Driven to distraction by this aching need. He strode to the window that overlooked the lane and pulled back the curtain, his gaze drawn like a magnet to her house, to the room he knew was hers. It was dark. The whole place was. She was probably fast asleep.
But that’s when he saw it. The movement. At first he thought it might be an animal. A dark shadow was moving along heryard, toward the lane. It was only as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night that he realized it was a person.
Her. Walking toward his house. Like she was as messed up as he was.
Releasing the curtain, he strode to his front door, wrenching it open, before he stepped out into the sultry night. She was clearer now. Still walking fast, as she crossed the road, then walked into his yard.
Without saying a word, he started striding toward her. Like his mind had been washed of all reason, replaced by pure desire. And when their bodies met, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her up, his mouth pressing against hers as he lifted her against his chest.
This kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was hard, full of need. Full of the desire they’d both repressed for way too long. She let out a sigh, her hands curling around his neck, her fingers tangling, as he turned around and carried her into his house.
“You came back,” he murmured, kicking the door shut behind them.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
The way she said it, her voice so full of honesty, sent a shot of desire through him.
“I couldn’t either. I was coming to get you. Throw stones at your window until they woke you up.”
She smiled against his mouth. “You could have called.”
“Yeah, well I hadn’t thought that part through.” He put her down on the ground. Brushed the hair from her face. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked her.
“Do you know how beautifulyouare?” she said back to him. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her words felt like the softest balm on his rough soul. He dipped his head, kissing her neck, feeling the drum of her pulse against his mouth.
“Come to bed.”
Her breath caught. “What about waiting untilafter?”
“I’ll take you to bed then, too.” He looked up at her. She was staring at him, her gaze dark. Full of the same desire that pulsed through him.
