Page 93 of Love at Second Down

The question hangs between us, fragile and hopeful, in the moments before my hands find his wrists. I grab hold of him, afraid he’ll pull away. I never want to let him go again.

“I’m terrified,” he whispers against my lips, “of how much I still feel for you. Of what your father will do when he finds out. What might happen if the media finds out.”

“I won’t leave you again.”

“Promise?” he whispers against my lips.

“I prom–” His mouth swallows my oath, his lips soft and hungry as they devour me with an urgency that makes my head spin.

I melt into him, every single nerve in my body exploding at the sensation of his touch.

He tilts his head, angling me closer while my hands slide up his arms, until I’m gripping his shoulders as his tongue seeks entrance. I acquiesce, parting my lips, and the feel of his tongue against mine sends a burst of heat racing down my spine.

A primal sound vibrates through Damon’s chest and into mine before his hands leave my face, wrapping around my waist, and pulling me onto his lap. I straddle him, my body flush with his. Our hearts beat a frantic melody as the hard planes of his body meet the soft curves of mine, and I arch into him, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between us.

“Avery,” he breathes against my mouth, and I’ve never loved the sound of my name so much. It’s half prayer, half plea as it slips from his lips.

His fingers tangle in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, until I can taste the mint of his toothpaste, the smell the soap on his skin, and that indiscernible masculine scent that’s uniquely Damon.

His hands move to my hips, gripping tightly as if he’s afraid I might disappear. So, I press closer, my fingers threading through his hair. I tug gently in the way I remember he likes, pleased when it elicits a small groan.

Years of separation melt away as his hands explore, sliding over the thin material of my sleep shirt, his palms burning through the silk. His mouth tastes, teeth nipping over my throat, my ear, my clavicle.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper against his lips when they return to mine. “Every day. Every minute.”

“God, I tried so hard to forget you,” he confesses, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, and the vulnerability there steals my breath. “But I failed, and now I’ve never been more damn glad.”

With a grunt, I bite his lower lip, then shift until I’m on my back, fisting the front of his shirt and taking him with me. The mattress dips with our weight as he settles over me, his hands finding the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of my pants before they slip beneath the hem of my shirt, sliding over my abdomen to touch bare skin.

His fingers scorch a fire in their wake stopping just shy of my breast. I gasp against his mouth and arch into his touch, encouraging him as he finally slides his calloused palm over my stiffened peak. A whimper escapes my lips as his thumb ghosts across my nipple, sending a ball of heat between my legs.

We’re teenagers again, finding each other for the first time, but also adults who understand the gravity of what we’re doing, what we’re choosing. And I choose him?all of him.

My body remembers him, even after all these years. Every touch, every caress is familiar yet brand-new.

“Damon, please,” I breathe, his name both a plea and a promise on my lips.

He pauses, lifting his head to look at me, his eyes hooded. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering with words, I prop myself up on my elbows and reach for the hem of my shirt, tugging it over my head and tossing it aside while his eyes roam hungrily over me, drinking me in. “Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

My cheeks warm at his praise, and goose bumps dance over my skin. But I don’t shy away from his gaze. Instead, I reach for him, tugging at his shirt. “Your turn.”

He reaches for the neck of his T-shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift movement, and revealing a chest that’s carved from stone?chiseled to perfection. He’s changed since we were teenagers; his body is more defined, stronger, butthe constellation of freckles on his left shoulder is exactly as I remember them.

Leaning forward, I slide my hands over the newly exposed skin, watching him watch me as I press a kiss to Orion. I trace my fingers over them in awe. “They’re still here,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Orion’s Belt.” I touch each freckle in reverence, thinking of how many times I’d done it before, feeling a rush of tenderness mingling with the desire.

His expression softens. “I remember you said they were your map to find your way back to me if you ever got lost.”

Something cracks open inside my chest. “I did get lost, didn’t I?” I whisper.

Damon lowers his forehead against mine as the delicious weight of him presses me into the mattress, scorching me from head to my toe. “I think maybe we both were lost for a while. But we’re here now. And that’s all that matters.”

His lips find mine again, gentler this time, the urgency tempered by something deeper, something that makes tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Something that makes my heart soar.

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