Page 118 of Unfaithful

Something tender flickered in his eyes. "What are you saying, Sara?"

My heart pounded even harder as I struggled to find the words to make him understand what he truly meant to me.

"I miss you. All the time."

He was still searching my eyes, trying to figure out what I was trying to say.

But I could see his feelings laid bare on his face—hope, longing. And maybe he could read mine, too.

I whispered, "Because I finally realized, deep in my heart, that I love you too."

He drew back slightly, his expression etched with pure shock.

I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to respond. God, I was so nervous.

Then he released a breath, a warm sigh that drifted across my skin, carrying the lingering scent of mint. "I love you, Sara. You're my one. Even when I'm not yours, you're still mine."

Oh, God. The words settled deep inside me, a tender ache blossoming in my chest. Suddenly, my tears spilled freely. The intensity of his devotion overwhelmed me. How was I so lucky? How had I been so fortunate to find a man who loved me like this? It felt impossible, yet here he was. His heart laid bare, offering me everything.

And I felt it. His feelings for me. I felt the patient, unwavering love he gave to me.

He smiled at me. I smiled at him, too.

Then I laughed—a soft, breathless sound—right through my tears.

I reached for him. My hands found the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, as I pulled him down to me.

And I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything I had, with every breath, every unsaid word, every piece of my heart I had been too afraid to give before.

He kissed me back, fierce and unrelenting, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as I had, perhaps even longer. His arms tightened around me, drawing me impossibly closer as if he feared letting go would make me disappear.

And still, my tears kept falling. They wouldn't stop.

Because my heart—so tender, so fragile—had melted, disentangled, and leaped wholly, irrevocably, into his hands.

Time stretched, each second lingering as I remained in his arms, lost in the warmth of him. Even as our kiss slowed, he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then the tip of my nose, his breath warm against my skin.

And then, in a whisper that sent goosebumps all over my skin, he murmured against my cheek, "Let's get out of here."

CHAPTER THIRTY

Sara

Archie was driving really fast, but I barely noticed the road. I sat sideways, the seatbelt pressing into my shoulder, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

With one hand on the wheel, he took my other, brushing his lips over my knuckles, then my palm, then the delicate skin of my wrist. A slow, lingering kiss.

Then he caught my finger between his teeth, giving it the lightest bite.

A shiver ran through me. I felt like I was about to burst.

We didn't talk. I just kept looking at him, and every so often, he glanced back at me. It was always like this with Archie. He was quiet, but he never needed so many words. His presence alone was enough, and it was comforting.

When we stopped at a red light, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into a searing kiss—hot, deep, and all-consuming. The world faded—the traffic, the buildings, the sky, the people on the road.

We didn't care.

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