Page 83 of Perfect Assumption
“Or, it doesn’t have to be a date at all.” His concern for me is evident.
“Can I ask you a question?” I stretch my hand upward and touch the strength of his jaw. His hands shift restlessly before he ruthlessly stills them.
“Anything.”
“Do you see me as different because of what I told you happened to me?” I hold my breath.
“Absolutely.” His answer comes so swiftly, I have no time to react. “I want to bury the men who did this to you because somewhere along the way, in between loyalty for your friendship with that ass Becks and eating pho, I realized something significant.”
“What’s that?” I barely manage to get the words out.
His face is somber. “I feel like your heart may have been created for mine. Now, that’s just an assumption, but…”
“Then why are you holding back?”
“Because anyone who has the kind of feelings I do for you doesn’t take advantage. That would make me no better than the animals who hurt you in the first place.”
My eyes flutter closed. Burning emotion makes its way out and down my cheeks.
“Angel? What is it?” He cups my cheek and brushes away the wetness.
“You. It’s just you.” And for the first time, I wrap my arms around Ward and kiss him with every pent-up emotion I have.
Thirty-Two
Ward
In addition to thanking all of our first responders who are on shift during this mess, I’d like to applaud them in advance because they know in just about ten months they’re all going to be on duty delivering babies named “Thunder,” “Snow,” “Fire,” or some other sentimental crap. But please, for all that’s holy, don’t name your child “Toilet Paper.” It’s bad enough they’re going to know their conception date.
— StellaNova
This kiss is heaven and hell all wrapped up in a package more precious and valuable than anything I’ve ever been exposed to. I know the second Angie’s lips touch mine, it signifies the end of my bachelor days. It’s love without the words, full of tenderness and subdued passion.
It’s the type of kiss my parents used to exchange.
It’s the kind of kiss I’ve been waiting to experience because it’s soul-binding.
My hands move slowly so they don’t startle her. I shift her slightly so she’s resting with her back to the arm of our makeshift sofa. Stroking her gently, I begin to accustom her to my touch even as I keep a check on my passion that she stirs up in a heartbeat.
Angie’s lips are firm but trembling. A soft moan causes hers to part. I don’t immediately rush slipping my tongue into the heat of her mouth. I pull back, even as my arm behind her tightens a bit. “Do you want to take this a bit further, Angel?”
Her hand slides into my hair to pull me back down toward her mouth, but I resist. I lean the weight against hers. “There’s no pressure. God, trust me. But, do you want…with me?” Christ, I don’t even know how to ask her how she wants more.
A log crackles in the fireplace. But instead of jumping, Angie reaches for my hand before whispering, “I think you’re trying to ask me this. Aren’t you?” She places it on her ribs, over her bulky sweatshirt.
Just below her breast.
I begin to pant. “Only if you’re sure.”
Her hand trails around the nape of my neck, and she whispers, “Kiss me, Ward. Kiss me the way I’m hoping you want to.”
But I don’t, not just yet. I slowly slide my hand upward until my large hand cups the full weight of her breast in my hand. I feel the tremors race through her, but she doesn’t shove me away. I quiver a bit when her delicate body arches a bit into mine.
That’s when I lean down and touch my lips to hers.
Our tongues fight a duel, sliding against one another. I feel Angie’s hands as they restlessly slide over my shoulders and back, trying to find purchase. But I hold myself in check fiercely, limiting myself to touching her over her sweatshirt despite the way her nipples rise prominently through the material to taunt me. My fingers capture one and pinch it slightly, elongating it further.
She makes a soft whimpering sound. Fuck.
