Page 113 of When Fences Fall
“Jericho.”
“I can clear your driveway for the rest of my days while Nick comes for a cuppa tea.” I can’t stop at this point—all these insecurities in my head are playing out like scenarios.
“Jericho.”
“I can do whatever else?—”
“Jericho!” she shushes, throwing her hand in the air and pressing her palm to my mouth.
I mumble under her hand, making her giggle.
“You sure are talking now.”
I stop squirming under her touch—I’ve been talking nonstop since I came here, she’s right. Talking about damnfeelings.
“I don’t need you to talk all the time.” Her soft voice feels like gentle strokes inside my chest. “Just tell me where you stand. Just once. And I’ll do the rest of the talking.”
Carefully pulling her hand away from my mouth, I flip it and plant a kiss onto her palm. When I look up at her face, I find her focused on our hands. She bites her lower lip but not attempting to appear seductive. She looks distressed.
“Nora,” I call her name, waiting for her to look at me. “I don’t want to have these murderous thoughts anymore.”
Her brows quickly draw together in confusion, making me chuckle.
“When you are next to me, I don’t need to think about beating up anyone who flirts with you. When you are mine, everyone will know. And I want everyone to know.” Leaning a breath closer, I ask, “Can I let everyone know?”
Her lips twitch at first, as if unsure how to react at my words, then they slowly spread into a big smile. “You can.”
Even though I anticipated the answer, actually hearing it makes me take in a lungful of air, and somehow, this new breath brings more oxygen than I’ve ever felt.
Her smile grows, slow and warm. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” I admit, and she laughs, the sound filling the quiet of the night.
“Well,” she says, reaching for my hand. “It was worth it.”
Her fingers lace through mine, and I pull her into me, unable to stop myself. She comes willingly, her body warm against mine.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I murmur against her hair.
“I’m not.” She tilts her face up to mine. “But next time, maybe try before midnight?”
“Next time,” I repeat, liking the sound of it. The promise of it.
I bend down and kiss her, gentle at first, then deeper when she makes a soft sound against my mouth. Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, and I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I press her against the door.
I can feel the heat of her through the fabric of my shirt, the warm weight of her settling in my arms. My mind is a blur of her—how she smells like vanilla and how she tastes like her favorite tea and something sweeter. She makes a small, urgent noise that does something wild to my insides, and I kiss her harder, feeling every inch of her against me.
Fucking hell. I want this. I want this so much I can hardly breathe.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I lose track of everything but her pulse, steady and strong, the way I’ve imagined it would be and nothing like I’ve imagined it all at once. She pulls me in tighter, and God, I’m not sure how I managed to wait this long.
She pulls back, breathless. “Jericho.”
“Yeah?”
“My grandmother is asleep upstairs.”
I freeze, then carefully release her. “Right.”
