Page 50 of Loving You

Two nights without Eric weren’t as scary as I’d thought they’d be when he dropped that bomb. Yes, I knew the security system like the back of my hand—he’d made sure of it—but it wasn’t just that.

It was the fact that ever since I’d moved in here, I’d become moremyselfthan I’d felt in years.

It was the way he’d shown me such compassion and understanding after I’d spilled my secrets on Monday night.

And it was how amazingly well my friends took learning about those same secrets, showing me they really did love me no matter what I threw at them.

For once, I actually felt like I had people in my corner rather than people I kept at arm’s length while I struggled alone. I felt like I had protection, and therefore, for the first time in years, I saw a future where I didn’t have to be afraid.

My phone dinged to alert me Eric was almost here, and I untangled myself from my fleece blanket and jumped up from the couch, turning off the TV and smoothing my hands over my hair.

It’d been fucking adorable how often he’d texted me to check in while he was away, but the best part of his two-night trip was the fact that I’d gotten Mr. Straitlaced tosextwith me once he was done checking up on me. And as satisfied as he’d been to hear I was doing well, I was way too thrilled that our naughty messages led to a muchdifferentsort of satisfaction for us both.

Sure, we’d been hours away from each other, and it’d been torture to know we were driving each other wild but couldn’t actually see or touch each other, but it’d also heightened the anticipation for tonight.

I mean,hello,too-serious Eric Walker trading messages that made me want to curl into a ball and die?

Yeah. I’d practically begged him to ditch Jake in Whereverville, Colorado and head home right then.

Thus, after forty-eight hours of looking forward to this moment, I was buzzing with lust and need and heat by the time I heard him enter his code for the front door.

He stepped inside, one side of his mouth quirking up when he saw me standing in the living room wearing only a T-shirt and booty shorts. “Nowthat’sa welcome home.”

A pulsing ache built low in my belly as he set down his overnight bag. Then when he looked up at me, his eyes burning into me like he really saw me, the ache was so strong it made me moan before I could stop myself.

Those beautiful, dark eyes flared in surprise, and he rounded the counter, crossing to me in only a couple long strides. I half expected him to throw me over his shoulder and haul me to his bed like a caveman, but instead, he got within a few inches and simply stopped short.

“Is this real?” he asked, his voice a harsh whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

“Real?”

“Yes.” He reached up with one hand, capturing my cheek and jaw in his large palm, tilting my face up toward his. I let out a small gasp at the intensity of his stare, and he gave me a short nod in response. “Yes, that. Your response to me. The lovely little sounds you make and the heat in your eyes. Is it real?”

Was he serious? Of course it was real. How could it not be?

Oh, right.

He doubted my response to him because I’d all but admitted to being a pro flirt even though I’d fabricated all my sexual escapades over the last few years.

But did he honestly think I wasthisgood of an actress? Did he honestly believe I could fake my reactions to him when a simple look had my blood turning into molten lava?

Even this—the way he held my face so I couldn’t look away if I tried, the way my chest was half an inch from his and all I wanted to do was close that distance. Pure fire.

With every breath I took, my sensitive nipples chafed against my bra, begging to be set free or better yet, be in his mouth. I pressed into him, sighing over the feel of his hard chest against my needy breasts. It was so much and not nearly enough.

“This is the part where you answer me, love.”

The yearning in his tone mixed with the flash of amusement in his eyes had me almost trembling with need, so I licked my lips and tried to remember how to speak. “Yes. It’s real. This is how you make me feel. Only you.”

He leaned down close, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “I want to make you feel so much more than this, sweet April. But only if you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” The words were out of my mouth so fast I wasn’t sure if he’d even finished speaking or if I’d cut him off, and his breathy, silent laugh against my neck was answer enough.

He nibbled his way from the spot below my ear to the corner of my mouth, and I parted my lips, ready to feel his tongue sweep in with all the calculated fire that radiated off him like a high-output furnace.

But he pulled back and hovered with his lips an inch from mine, and when I leaned in to kiss him myself, he pulled back, teasing me. “Only I make you feel this way, hmm?”

“Yes.”

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