Page 56 of Deal Breaker
The words settle heavily between us, bringing an end to the lightness of the last few minutes. But I had to say them.
Her hand drifts up, fingertips brushing my jaw, light as air. That small, familiar touch wrecks me more than a kiss ever could.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, her voice barely audible.
“I know.
It’s not forgiveness. It’s not closure. But it’s honest and right now, that’s enough. For a long, breathless moment, we just stand there—swaying slightly, holding onto each other like maybe, just maybe, the world can pause for us tonight. When she rests her forehead against my chest, I let my hand slide up to the back of her neck, cradling her gently. Notpushing. Just holding onto her because after everything, I think that’s what we both need most.
We walk back to the hotel in silence. Her hand brushes mine once by accident. When it happens a second time, I grab it. She doesn’t pull away. And I don’t let go. I intertwine her fingers with mine, grounding myself in the fact that after all this time, she’s here, beside me. It’s stupid how good it feels. It’s like slipping back into something so comfortable and familiar. Something I almost stopped believing I ever had.
It feels like the whole world has collapsed into this small point of contact—her hand in mine. In this moment, there is nothing else that matters.
For a man who’s built walls around everything he touches, holding her feels dangerous, but for the first time in a long time, it feels like the kind of risk I’m willing to take.
The lobby’s quieter now. We ride the elevator in silence, but the air between us crackles. When we reach our floor, my pulse hammers louder than our footsteps.
Room 312.
She stops in front of her door, keycard in hand, but she doesn’t move. Her throat works as she swallows, and I see the exact second her resolve starts to crack.
And then I don’t think.
I move.
I back her into the door, one hand braced beside her head, the other curling around her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her breath shudders and for a beat, we just stare at each other.
And then she’s on me, or maybe I’m on her. Doesn’t matter. Her hands fist in my shirt as my mouth crashes into hers—frantic, hungry, like all that pent-up tension has nowhere else to go but this. Her back thuds softly againstthe door, and she moans. I devour her gasp, my fingers sliding up into her hair as her body arches into mine.
She tastes the same. She feels the same. But this isn’t the past. This is now and right now, I need her more than I need to breathe.
Her hands tug at my jacket, pulling me closer. I break the kiss just long enough to murmur. “Tell me you want this too.”
Her eyes, dark and wild, meet mine.
She doesn’t say it. Instead, she pulls me back in. Hard.
And that’s all the answer I need.
TWENTY-ONE
Landyn
His mouth crashes into mine before I can even get the key in the door.
There’s no hesitation, just heat. The kind that’s been building between us since the second I walked back into Cove, and maybe long before that. It’s years of silence and of want, it’s everything we didn’t say back then crashing into now. He backs me into the wall beside the door, one of his hands sliding around the back of my neck while the other tugs at the hem of my dress, like he needs me undressed, now.
I gasp when his hips press into mine. God, he’s already hard, thick and solid through his jeans, and it sends a jolt of pure desire through me. The ridge of his erection presses against my stomach as our mouths open to each other, tongues tasting, searching. His scent—clean skin and man— floods my senses, grounding me in something that’s always felt like home.
The keycard slips from my hand and hits the floor but neither of us moves to grab it. Ford keeps kissingme—deep, rough kisses that steal every breath I try to take. His mouth moves with intention, like he’s trying to remember every inch of me, trying to memorize the way I taste.
“Get us inside,” he murmurs between kisses, lips brushing mine.
I bend for the key, grab it blindly, and manage to swipe us into the room. The second the door clicks shut behind us, he’s back on me.
“God, I’ve thought about this,” he groans between kisses. “Too many fucking times.”
His hands are everywhere— in my hair, on my hips, drifting over my hips to my ass before they find the zipper at the back of my dress.
