Page 59 of The Risks of Reuniting

I put my own bags on my bed and kick off my shoes and socks, wiggling my aching toes with a sigh. I'm getting ready to pull my pajamas out of the dresser when a knock sounds at our door. I look at Rachelle and she shrugs. I'm moving to the door when it sounds again.

"Must be urgent," I say with a confused frown. "Did you forget something?"

She shakes her head. "No. Maybe it's Dr. J with an emergency?"

"Oh, I hope not. I'm too tired to do dental work with any skill tonight," I moan, and she hums her agreement.

But when I open the door it's to the sight of Holt's fist getting ready to knock again.

"Holt?" I ask, confused. He steps back from the door a few steps, and I follow until I'm standing a foot or so away from our door, too, the light from our room fading as my bare feet connect with the cold dirt. "Did you forget something?" He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Are you alright?" I ask.

"Not really," he states.

Then, his eyes fasten on mine and with enough speed that I don't have time to really process what's coming, he's closed the distance between us, wrapped his arms around my lower back, and is dipping his head to press his lips to mine. At first contact I freeze, confused and unsure, but I feel his entire body adjust to pull me closer and I can't help but respond. My arms snake up to wrap around his shoulders, and I return the kiss. It's soft and lovely, and my hands climb up his neckline and back down, coasting over his shoulders in an exploration, finding him once more.

The kiss deepens and I go up onto my toes to get closer. It's good, so good. My mouth knows just how to kiss him, and what move he'll make next, and I recognize his scent as it washes over me.This is Holt, my Holt, my heart beats out.It's him, it's him. He's here. Thank goodness.

His hands slide from holding me close to trailing up my back before grabbing at my hips, and I'm drowning in his nearness and familiarity, and I wouldn't stop it even if I could.

He makes a sound in his throat that has me reaching for his jawline, letting my fingers run over the scruff of his beard, loving how prickly it is.

He pulls away to take a breath and whispers against my lips. "I miss this, and you, and all of it."

I smile, small and soft. "I miss you too."

"Every single day, Chlo. Every day." His words are heartfelt and I believe them. "We messed up. Last year. We . . ."

He seems out of words, or too nervous to say them, as I go back down to flat feet and he follows, tipping his forehead against mine as he pushes a palm against the small of my back to keep me close.

"Holt . . ." I start.

He presses a quick kiss against my lips. "Do you think we can fix this?"

Guess he dared to say it after all. I can't help but give him another kiss of my own, and he answers it by taking us on another little kiss-fest journey until we have to breathe again. My body is a riot of unhinged confetti cannons, and I can't reel it in. Even after the kiss ends, I continue to seek contact with him, running my hands over his chest and down his arms.

"I want to," I say, forcing the words out. "But I'm . . . nervous."

"I am too," he admits.

"I can't go through that again. I can't say yes if it's temporary. And you're still in North Carolina and I'm still in Utah," I say, my heartrate slowing as reality creeps back in. I look straight into his eyes and find they're filled with the same desperate longing I feel. "None of the things that separated us have changed."

He takes my face between his work-roughened hands and looks me dead in the eye. "How about we don't logic this out right now."

I smile, because that's exactly where my head was going and he knew it. "You want me to live in la-la-land?" I joke.

He nods rapidly. "Yes. Join me here. It's happy."

I lean forward and kiss his chin. "It is pretty cozy."

He drops his head to meet my lips, light and soft, still holding my face. The kiss is tender and gentle and makes my toes curl in the dirt.

"Believe me, I know you're in Utah and I'm in North Carolina – but I think we're also both in hell a little bit, and I can't go on like that."

"You're not wrong," I say. It's been brutal.

"Hell isn't hot like I expected," he cracks, letting go of my face and taking me into his arms again. "It's frosty, frigid, and sad."

I turn my cheek against his chest and wrap my arms around his waist. "You forgot dreary, cloudy, dull."

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