Page 114 of Call You Mine
She looks up, her beautiful red-rimmed eyes say more than words can say. She knows as well as I do that while this marriage might have started with an inevitable end, the only thing inevitable about it is us.
“I want you. I want Georgie. I want this baby. I wantthis.” My hand cups her jaw, holding her gaze. “Please, love. Please let me call you mine.”
CHAPTER 40
AVA
“You can’t saythings like that,” I breathe, convinced that if I speak too loud, it will scare this moment away.
Anderson is here, holding me close, saying all the things I didn’t know I wanted to hear.
He wants me.
He wants this.
He doesn’t care how much of a mess I am, how much of a mess my life is.
He wantsme.
“Just tell me what I have to do to show you that I’ll do anything to call you mine, love.”
And finally, I let go of the worry that I’m not enough, that I’m too much, that everything I carry is too heavy to ask someone for help.
I let it all go.
And I press my lips to his.
Instantly, his mouth melts to mine with an urgency unlike anything he’s ever shown me before.
In the past, I’ve felt the way Anderson holds me when we kiss, like he’s on borrowed time, taking advantage of every second.
And maybe that’s why I’ve always pulled away.
Because his kiss told me everything I refused to accept. That he’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve ever needed, everything I always wished was mine.
“Come here,” he says against my lips, immediately swallowing my gasp when he pulls me into his lips, grabbing my hips as he stands, my legs immediately wrapping around my waist.
I can feel the passion in his kiss, the love in the way he carefully sets me down on his bed, the heat in his hands as they touch my skin.
When he breaks our kiss, my eyes slowly open as I adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. It’s early afternoon, but his blinds are closed, shielding us from the world outside.
Reminding me of the thought that it’s just us. Grounding me in the moment.
Because this isn’t a quick fuck to forget, this isn’t a distraction to clear my mind.
I can see Anderson’s face, his dark hair framing his caramel eyes as he stands above me, darkened with lust as they trail over my body.
I’m fully dressed, but I feel like I’m on full display.
Like he can see every part of me I try to hide—the part that wants to call him mine as much as he wants to call me his.
The thought sparks my desire, the need to feel him on me,insideme.
I feel his hands trail up the tops of my legs, up my stomach, and to my chest, finding the zipper of my hoodie, the button of my jeans, the clasp of my bra. His eyes meet mine in a silent ask for permission, and I nod as I sit up on my elbows, resisting the urge to fight the intimacy of the moment with a smartass comment or rolling my eyes and taking the bra off myself.
Instead, I make myself slow down, absorbing it all—like if we move slowly enough, I can commit it all to memory.
There’s something about the way Anderson moves within the tension. He moves like he has all the time in the world, like there’s no need to rush this.
