Page 31 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
And I’ve been stonewalled. I try another angle.
“I want it to go well too.” She’s not the only one with something at stake. I have a show, a publisher, and a team of employees, not to mention Trevor. They have work because I have work. “This matters to me just like it does to you.”
She looks at me again, appearing curious. “Why does this matter to you so much?” She stands, focused and incisive. “Why do you care about this house? Your brand is jumping across bridges and wrestling anacondas, so why are you here in a home? Just for Edward Valentina? It doesn’t make sense.” Her eyes pin me, and when I don’t answer right away, she fires off one more question. “Why did you take this job?”
The question of the hour.
The question of the week.
I could give her the easy answer—the man, the history, the legend.
Or I could say I’m here for my mother, at her insistence, and because of the fact that I do sometimes want to be closer to my family, to look out for my mom.
But there’s more to it than those reasons.
There’s the regret.
After talking to Josh this morning, I was sure I’d figured out why I was driven to reconnect with her—to apologize. So I did it. I owned up.
But now, after another day with her, I’m not so sure if that was my big regret. Because saying sorry hasn’t freed me from this obsession.
I’m still thinking of her, and it’s not simply because we’re working together.
I want to get to know her again.
And right now, I want to get to know her kiss again.
I’m a man of action, so I cross the room, closing the distance. “Saying I’m sorry wasn’t enough.”
“What?” She sounds thoroughly confused.
I look into her eyes. “There’s more.”
“What do you want to say?” she asks softly.
“This is why I said yes to the job.”
I cup her cheek and bring my mouth to hers.
12
Presley
It happens so quickly that I’m not sure who does the next thing.
All I know is we lunge.
He hauls me into his arms as I loop my hands around his neck.
We are back in time.
Kissing like mad.
Like no time has passed and like all the time has passed. Like time will pass us by if we don’t grab this moment.
As he seals his mouth to mine, my skin sizzles. I heat up from the sound he makes. It’s a cross between a groan and a growl, full of gratitude and longing. It’s hungry and needy, and I can taste his want as he brushes his lips over mine.
“You,” he whispers roughly.
Me, I think. Me.
He’s kissing me and I’m kissing him, and I still don’t know exactly why he said yes to the job, but this—this is what great kisses are made of.
His kisses make me weak in the knees. They make my heart race. I want to melt in his arms, liquified by the utter intensity of this contact.
He kisses me like I imagine he’d climb a mountain—with passion and complete devotion to the task. His lips slide over mine and he explores my mouth, devouring me like I’m a treasure.
Forget lost cities in the Amazon. This is the kind of kiss people cross oceans and deserts to discover. This is the kiss all lovers yearn for.
His hands tangle in my hair, cupping the back of my head, and for one dirty moment, I imagine him picking me up, carrying me upstairs, and having his way with me.
Take me, I’d say.
I shouldn’t want him, shouldn’t let him, shouldn’t give in, but I’m not in charge. My body is, and my body wants him—here, there, and anywhere.
But as he moves me back toward the wall by the desk, the floor creaks.
Then it groans.
Hunter stumbles to the right, losing his footing on . . . a wobbly floorboard?
I break the kiss. He untangles his arms from me. We step away.
“What was that?” I ask, still breathless.
“My foot.” He frowns at the floor, where he’s pressing the toe of his boot against a floorboard. “It’s loose or something.”
He presses again, tapping. The wood creaks, but it’s a mechanical sound.
“That doesn’t sound like a loose board,” I say.
Our eyes meet, his glinting. “No. It sounds purposeful.”
Another tap, another press, and the board rises.
He’s quiet at first, his lips parting, his eyes full of surprise.
“The floorboard is the secret compartment.” His voice is still gravelly with lust. Getting on his hands and knees, he peers into the opening. The floorboard stands upright, like an open trapdoor.
When he turns the slightest bit to face me, his smile is wild. Like a treasure hunter, he reaches into the space below the floor. “Maybe this is what we’ve been searching for.”
13
Hunter
Pretty much everyone knows that the Amazon is Earth’s largest rain forest.
With more than 2.7 million square miles, it is roughly the size of the continental United States, home to an astonishing array of wildlife, and renowned for its biodiversity.
