Page 43 of The Moment They Can Never Forgive
When everyone had left, Leah headed back inside to wash the coffee cups.
“How are you feeling now?”
Leah whirled to find Dan standing behind her.
“I thought everyone had left.”
“Just working on the tree house,” he said, watching her. “You didn’t answer my question,” he added, moving closer to stop inches from her.
“What are you doing?” Leah was trapped between him and the counter at her back.
“Hell if I know, but I’ve spent the day watching you, and I can’t stop wanting to touch you.”
“No, Dan. We can’t?—”
“We can.”
He kissed her then, easing her into his arms. He drank from her lips deep and long, kissing her like the years between them hadn’t happened—like the heartbreak, the silence, the bitter words had never been spoken. His mouth was warm, coaxing hers open, and Leah hated how quickly she responded.
But her hands were already in his hair, tugging, her body arching into his like it remembered everything she’d tried to forget.
“I don’t want to like you,” she whispered when he finally lifted his head.
Dan’s forehead touched hers, his breath ragged. “Good. Because I still haven’t forgiven you.”
His mouth returned to hers, rougher this time. No teasing now, no hesitation. His hands slipped under her shirt, skimming over skin beneath his touch.
“But I’ve never wanted any woman more than you,” he growled, backing her toward the kitchen counter.
She hit it with a thump and gasped as he hoisted her onto the cool surface, then stepped between her legs. His hands wereeverywhere now. On her waist, her thighs, her back, and it wasn’t sweet or playful. It was hungry and heated and messy, like the two of them had always been.
When his lips found the spot beneath her ear, the one that made her toes curl, she whispered, “This doesn’t change anything.”
Dan stilled. His breath stirred her hair. “No. But it means something.”
She didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Because he was kissing her again, and she was letting him. And when his hands slid down and tugged her closer, Leah stopped thinking altogether.
She clutched at his shirt, yanking it from his waistband, needing his skin beneath her hands. When her palms flattened against his stomach, she felt the jolt that went through him. The muscles in his abdomen twitched, and then his mouth was on her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder.
“We shouldn’t—” she breathed.
“Tell me to stop,” Dan rasped against her skin, his voice wrecked. “Tell me now.”
But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Her body betrayed her, pulling him closer, thighs tightening around his hips. She was already lost in the heat of him, the familiar scent of sweat and Dan, something that had always been just his.
His hands slid up her ribs, thumbs brushing the underswell of her breasts, and she arched into him with a gasp. He tugged down the cups of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently until her breath hitched.
“Christ,” she moaned, threading her fingers into his hair, holding him there. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“You keep saying that,” he growled, moving to the other breast, teeth grazing her nipple. “But your body says otherwise.”
Her head fell back against the cabinet door as he kissed lower, dragging his tongue along the center of her stomach.Then he dropped to his knees on the tiled floor and looked up at her, face flushed, eyes dark.
“You always liked it when I took my time,” he said, fingers finding the button on her shorts.
“Dan—” Her voice was a warning. A plea. A dare.
He slid the zipper down slowly, eyes never leaving hers, and when he peeled the denim from her hips, followed by her underwear, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.
