Page 158 of So Not Meant To Be
Yearning.
She parts her lips, dips her tongue into my mouth, and then sifts her fingers through my hair.
I snap.
My hands slide around her, one at her waist, the other at the nape of her neck, and I kiss her back with more force. I let her melt into my touch, take control.
She tugs on my hair.
I slip my hand under the hem of her dress.
She moans into my mouth.
I groan into hers.
She opens her mouth wider.
My tongue finds hers.
And then it’s a tangled mess of need. Of eagerness. Of everything I’ve ever fucking wanted, and it’s right here, available for the taking. I’m not letting go.
I can’t.
Her hand slides up to my jaw and she grips me tightly. “Unzip my dress.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly.
Her eyes connect with mine, the gold in them shining in the yellow glare of the nightstand light. “Unzip my dress, Jonah.”
My cock instantly grows hard. Is this real?
Is she real?
Am I fucking dreaming?
Because that’s what this feels like—a dream where I’ll wake up just as I grip the small zipper of her dress. I’ll be rudely disrupted, she’ll disappear, and that empty, clawing feeling will return.
“Baby,” I whisper, my forehead touching hers. “Is this... is this real?”
“Yes,” she says as her lips fall to my jaw. “This is real.”
“But... your date?”
“I sent him home,” she whispers as her lips move over my mouth again. “I realized...” She kisses my cheek. “Very quickly...” She kisses my mouth. “That the pain I felt walking away from you...” She kisses my other cheek. “Brought me to my knees.” She lifts up and looks me in the eyes. “I think I’ve wanted you for a long time, and it took me walking away to confirm that.”
I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat, but fail miserably. “What does that mean?”
She brings her hands between us and slowly begins to unbutton my dress shirt, one button at a time. “It means that I’m yours. All yours.”
“You’re not... you’re not leaving?” I still can’t believe it.
She tugs my shirt out of my pants and slides the sleeves off my shoulders, leaving my torso bare to her. Her hands slide back up my tense arms, over my carved shoulders, and down my rumbling pecs. She wets her lips as her hips move gently over my lap.
“No. I’m staying. I want... I want you to ask me out.”
Fucking hell. I feel the sting of tears at the backs of my eyes. I’m not a goddamn crier, but for the life of me, I can’t stop the ugly emotions seizing me. Not sure the last time someone chose me... for me.
For all the ugly I have to offer.
