Page 12 of Misconception (Unrequited 2)

She tilted her head, leaning into my touch. “Me too, Moses.”

I took her face in my hands, really looking at her. The sharp arch of her eyebrows. Her delicate, upturned nose. Wide cheekbones and narrow chin, forming a heart. I had fucking butterflies launching themselves against the walls of my stomach.

“I really want to kiss you, Michaela.”

Her lips parted. “Is that a line, or something true?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever said anything more true.”

Her palms slid up my chest to the sides of my neck, tugging me closer, lower, until my mouth hovered over hers. “Can I?”

“Please, Moses. Kiss me true.”

When my mouth covered hers, the meaning of truth became clear in my mind.Shewas truth. The moment was the truest that had ever occurred. Our connection pulsed with how true it was.

She sighed, moaned, opened for me. My tongue swept over hers, tasting cranberries, vodka, and Michaela. The fountain show began, but I barely noticed. How could I? I was a stupid, twenty-six-year-old punk-ass kid who knew, without a shred of doubt, I was holding my future in my arms. That thought had hit me out of nowhere, and it should have scared me senseless, but I’d had four whiskeys, so my defenses were lowered enough to accept this woman as fact.

No one had ever felt better against me. Her tits pressed against my chest with urgency. Closer, closer, we weren’t anywhere near close enough. She opened her mouth wider, and I dipped my head lower, kissing her deep. Dragging my lips over hers. Sliding my tongue along the back of her teeth. Rubbing the corners of her mouth with my thumbs.

I broke away from her mouth only to taste her neck. She shook, almost vibrating, as I wrapped my arms around her back.

“What the hell is this?” she whimpered.

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t want to fight it, though.” My voice was thick with the desire surging through my veins and the emotion pouring out of my heart.

She turned to face the fountain show. “I need a minute. Okay?”

How could she need a minute when I was so completely sure? Shouldn’t I be the one running for the hills?

The panicked pounding of my heart slowed as she reached for my hands, inviting me to wrap them around her waist. I stood behind her, my head on top of hers, while she watched the show, and I closed my eyes, soaking everything about her in.

“What if we remember how to be ourselves with each other?” she asked, still watching the fountains.

“That would be a relief.” My hands moved over her stomach and ribs, pulling her against me. “Come back to my room with me,” I whispered.

She tipped her head back to see me, lights shining in her eyes. “Mo...I have to leave tomorrow.”

I shook my head, lips on the skin of her forehead. “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone no matter what. I want to spend as much time with you as I can get.”

Her breathing shuddered, and she arched against me. “I want that too.”

Another Uber took us back to the hotel. Michaela’s hand shook in mine, and I squeezed, trying to relieve her nerves, even though mine ran just as rampant. Through the lobby, on the elevator, and inside my room, our fingers stayed woven.

“I’m so nervous.” She croaked a dry laugh.

“God, me too.” My heart fucking swelled for this woman. I wrapped her up in my arms, hugging her, because we both needed it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged. Just hugged. Touched? Constantly. Embraced? Almost never. “Let’s have another drink.”

She nodded against my chest. “Brilliant idea.”

There was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket—a gift from the show promoters. I popped the cork, like I had any idea what I was doing. Michaela laughed when it launched across the room and bubbles shot out of the bottle.

Maybe I was doing something right—getting her to laugh, showing me that smile I’d have in my head long after she left tomorrow.Can’t believe I never noticed how perfect her teeth are and how damn extraordinary her smile is.

I handed her a glass of champagne, but before she could take a sip, I slipped my hand under her ponytail, squeezing the back of her neck.

“I don’t expect anything, Michaela. To be honest, I’m a little out of my depth right now.”

She drank her champagne, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “You’re so smooth, I find it hard to believe you ever don’t know your next move.”

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