Page 63 of Instigator

She answers by pressing closer.

And the moment our mouths truly meet, something inside me settles and ignites all at once. Our connection is as tenuous as a single strand of thread yet strong as steel, anchoring me to this plane of existence.

Ceci is the one to deepen the kiss, to accelerate the flickering flame between us until it coalesces into a fireball. She parts her lips for me, daring me to press further, to take her the way I’ve wanted to all this time.

I lick into her mouth, tasting her, memorizing her. The soft sighs, the sweetness of her lips, the rich chocolate of our shared dessert. I commit all of it to memory. Every last moment.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too pressing to ignore. I pull back, but I don’t go far, resting my forehead against hers as I pull in one ragged breath after another.

She laughs, the sound husky. “Yeah, I’d say we don’t have to worry about any compatibility issues.”

I kiss her one more time, my smile teasing hers. “Good.”

Waiting until she situates herself is like torture. My gaze finally, finally drops to her legs, the thin black tights clinging to her skin, the stilettos of her heels elongating her shapely calves. A bolt of want passes through me. I never thought calves could be sexy. I was wrong. Everything about her is sexy.

Once she’s settled, I close the car door and round the SUV to my side, adjusting myself as I do. I slip behind the wheel, and Ceci reaches for me, kissing me slowly.

“Took too long,” she murmurs against my lips.

It’s my turn to laugh. “I can’t drive like this.”

She huffs, a smile on her face. “Fine. If you have to.”

After I shift the car into gear and navigate onto the main road, I reach for her hand, gratified when she lets me take it.

She sings along to the radio while I drive. Boston traffic means our three-mile trip takes closer to twenty-five minutes, and we have to wait another seven for an elevator, but once we’re finally alone, I waste no time in pulling her to me and kissing the daylight out of her.

Somehow, we make it up to my apartment without being interrupted by a neighbor—or worse, a teammate.

“Show me your place,” she says, shrugging out of her coat. I hang it on the hook beside mine, taken aback by how much I like the simple domesticity of it.

“You’ve been here before.” I wave my hand. “Kitchen’s through here. Living room. Guest room and Hailey’s room share a bathroom. Laundry cupboard. And you’ve already seen my room.”

Ceci giggles. “I have, yes.” She takes my hand and leads me through my own apartment.

I left the bedside light on, and it casts the room in a soft, warm glow. There’s a fresh reed diffuser with a citrus-and-cedar blend flooding the room in a safe, comforting scent. My sheets are freshly washed, the bed made. Although I wasn’t anticipating bringing anyone back here, I made sure the place looked nice… just in case.

Now I’m glad I did.

She sits on the edge of my bed, gazing up at me. “We should probably talk a little.”

I sit beside her. “Okay.”

“I, um… I didn’t always look like this.” She gestures down at her body. “I’ve lost a shit ton of weight, and I had surgery to remove the loose skin. I’m forty-three. I’m not going to look like the other women you’ve been with.”

“You’re right,” I reply, taking her hand in mine again. “You’re not going to look like them, because you’re going to look like you.”

She flinches.

“Scars, loose skin, whatever, none of that matters to me. I care about who you are more than what you look like.”

Ceci opens her mouth.

“Plus, I like the way you look. I have ever since we met.”

Do I tell her? Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“That night we met at the gala a year and a half ago, I… reacted to you.” My face heats at the memory, but I force myself to hold her gaze.