Page 74 of Check the Halls
“So you started seeing Valentina.”
“Yes.”
“But…it didn’t work out.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Maddy’s voice is barely more than a whisper.
“She wasn’t you.”
A pressure builds behind my closed eyes as I stand in front of the woman I love—completely vulnerable, exposed. The silence stretches between us like a wire pulled too tight, and just when I think I can’t take another second of it, I feel the cool brush of her hand against my cheek.
It startles me. But instead of pulling away, I lean into Maddy’s touch, aching for it.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?” My voice scrapes out, rough.
“Kiss me.”
My eyes fly open, light pouring in. Maddy’s face comes into focus, her hand still resting on my cheek, a small, tentative smile on her lips.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, half-convinced I imagined it.
“I want you to kiss me.” Her voice is soft, sure. “Please,” she adds, lifting her gaze to mine. “I’m not confused.”
This time, I don’t hesitate. The moment my lips touch hers, my breath catches. She whimpers at the contact, and I freeze, afraid she might pull away.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she rises on her toes, tilts her chin, and presses in. A shudder rolls through me, wiping away every last trace of doubt. One hand slips into her hair, the other slides around her waist, my fingers resting on the warm skin at the small of her back. She keeps one hand on my cheek, the other curling into my hair, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens.
“Madness,” I groan against her mouth as her tongue finds mine.
She gasps when my teeth catch her bottom lip, and I drink in the sound, gripping her tighter. Ten years of longing, regret, and loneliness—gone. Incinerated by a single kiss.
I pull back just enough to breathe, but I don’t let her go. I press my forehead to hers, both of us gripping each other tightly.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that again?” My eyes stay closed, voice low.
She hums. “Hmm…a week?”
I huff a breath, lips twitching. “Longer.”
“A month?”
“Longer.”
“Two?”
I lean back and take her in. Her cheeks are flushed, lips kiss-bitten, pupils dark and wide. God, I’ve missed seeing her like this—looking at me like that.
“Ten years,” I say quietly. “Ten years of missing you. Of missing this. I kept telling myself it would fade. But it never did. It won’t. I love you, Madelyn Alice Clairmont.” My voice is steady, unwavering. “I miss you. And time and distance haven’t changed a damn thing.”
Her mouth parts, but no sound comes out. My heart stutters. Maybe I said too much. Too fast.
The urge to press her back into the dressing room, to fall to my knees and vanish beneath the skirt of her gown until she comes undone against my mouth—it nearly chokes me. I want to taste every inch of her, lose myself in her. I want her wrecked and breathless and mine.
