Page 191 of Bridesmaid Undercover
I forgot to kiss you.
To tell you how much I want you.
Heart heavy in my chest, my stomach twisting in knots, I walk up to her and take a seat on the edge of her bed.
For a silent breath, I stare at her, at the pain I’ve caused her, the turmoil I’ve put us both through, and I can’t stomach it. I can’t sit here and act like everything is fine when it’s not.
“Hardy…” she whispers, her voice soft, weak.
It’s too much and before I can stop myself, I pull her up to a seated position, letting the sheets fall between us. I keep my eyes trained on hers as I cup her cheek and bring her mouth to mine.
She exhales softly while her wet cheeks momentarily press against mine, our lips tentatively kissing.
But the timid imprint of her lips against mine is not enough.
Itshouldbe enough.
I should pull away right now and not get lost in this moment with her, but for the life of me, I can’t.
Instead, I move my hand to the back of her head and deepen my kiss, sinking into the feel of her.
The taste of her.
The sound of her sweet moans as I swipe at her lips with my tongue, begging for entrance.
Her mouth parts and I take advantage of it, slipping my tongue against hers, letting them tangle, as our lips mold together.
Fuck, this is heaven. Right here. Her warm, naked body next to mine, her mouth on mine, her tongue dancing with mine. Everything about this. I don’t want to let it go. I don’t want to give it up.
I want this.
I want her.
But in the back of my head, I can hear my brother telling me to stop. Yelling at me to stop.
Begging me.
And it’s just enough to make me reluctantly pull away, and when those bright green eyes stare up at me in confusion, I have to warn myself of the repercussions.
Don’t, man.
Don’t break.
Don’t lay her on the bed, and press kisses up and down her body, revel in tasting her, spreading her legs wide, and taking what you so desperately want.
Hold strong.
I tug on my hair, frustration careening through me like a bomb ready to explode. “I’m…fuck, Everly, I’m sorry.”
Her beautiful, watery eyes search mine. “Sorry for what?” she asks.
“Sorry for walking out of your apartment, making you think you’re not the one I want. Because you are. You’re the one that I want to take out on dates, the one I want to get to know better, the one I want to spend evenings and mornings with. You, Everly.”
“But you said?—”
“I know what I said,” I reply. “And it was a lie.”
She sits back, confusion laced through her brow as she brings the sheet up to her chest to cover herself up. “I don’t understand.”
