Page 55 of The Candle Palace (Jamison Valley 6)
My words died. Milo was standing on my stoop. He wasn’t supposed to be released until tomorrow.
“Hi.” His e
yes roamed over me from head to toe.
“Hi,” I breathed.
Oh my God. I hadn’t washed my hair in three days. I wasn’t wearing makeup, not that I wore much, but my pale eyelashes had never been without a few swipes of mascara when he was around.
I pulled the cardigan even tighter. I was a wreck and he looked amazing. More handsome than I could have imagined. He looked stronger. Taller. More rugged.
Without a word, Milo took a step forward, forcing me to shuffle backward. He did it again and again until I was inside my entryway and he had room to close the door. With a thud, he dropped the backpack from his shoulder to the wood floor.
Why hadn’t I showered? Why was he here a day early? I’d already planned my outfit for tomorrow when we’d agreed I’d pick him up from the hospital. My best skinny jeans and a cute navy sweater were waiting on a hanger together in my bathroom.
He was supposed to see me in that outfit, not my plaid Christmas pajama pants that pooled at my ankles and a red tank top that read Nameste in Bed. My cardigan was hunter green and missing a button.
It was early March and I was rocking my Christmas-morning outfit.
“Sara.” His voice made me shiver.
“Yeah?” I whispered, my arms wrapping around my waist.
Was this when he told me he’d had a great time getting to know me, but it was time for him to return to his life? I wouldn’t blame him. He deserved to find a woman who didn’t let domineering doctors kiss them in locker rooms. At the least, he deserved a woman who was strong enough to report it.
I waited for his heart-shattering words but Milo didn’t speak.
A graze of his fingertips preceded his hot palm as it smoothed across my cheek and behind the nape of my neck.
“Sara.” My name, then his lips were on mine in a flash of movement that stole my breath and made my knees go weak. His tongue plundered my mouth, his long fingers explored my shoulders and down my back and then up again, a frantic search for a place to settle and pull me closer.
It was the most erotic kiss of my life, the way his hands roamed so eagerly. The way his lips moved and his face tilted back and forth, wanting more and more as his tongue dueled with my own. He kissed me senseless. He kissed me until my heart nearly stopped.
He kissed me until I broke.
The first tear fell between us, wetting his cheek. Then the others followed.
I sobbed, breaking away from him and covering my mouth to keep the others hidden. I folded inward, my shoulders doing their best to provide a wall I could hide behind as I turned my back to Milo.
I was such a coward. I was unworthy. He deserved more. Another sob escaped, filling my quiet home.
Two arms wrapped around me before another sob could escape. They held me tight—tighter than I’d been held in . . . years. For the first time since Dad had died, I wasn’t utterly alone.
I cried hard, my entire body shaking. I hadn’t really cried since the day I’d run from the hospital after Vernon’s kiss. Instead, I’d locked my feelings away, numb to what had happened. Numb to my choices.
With Milo’s arms around me, I wasn’t numb anymore. Every bit of anger and shame came pouring out in a flood of emotion.
Milo didn’t speak. He didn’t beg me to tell him what was wrong or urge me to stop. He just let me cry, only loosening his grip to spin me around and hold me close.
I clung to him, gripping the thick cotton at his back. Every time I felt my legs give way, he held me up, until eventually, there were no tears left to fall.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest.
“Don’t be.” He let me go to stand back and wipe my damp face dry.
I sucked in a shaky breath, then blew it out in a long sigh. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.”
