Page 144 of Lighting the Lamp
I close my eyes, breathing in the clean, soapy scent of his skin. I can feel the solid thump of his heart under my palm. He moves us in a gentle circle, our feet brushing over the worn rug, every step unhurried, unforced, like he’s afraid to break the spell.
“You make me want things I thought I’d stopped wanting,” he murmurs into my temple, the words sinking into me as deep as the music.
I press closer, my cheek against his chest, my voice muffled in the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “Good. Because I’m not letting you stop.”
“Then I guess I’m dancing with you forever.” His chuckle is low and warm, the sound curling through me until I’m sure I’ll never forget it.
I tilt my head back, just enough to see him, and his tired and utterly open gaze catches mine in a way that makes my throat ache. His thumb traces the edge of my jaw, feather-light, like he’s memorizing me all over again.
And in that tiny, messy entryway, with Gary Allan crooning in the background and his arms holding me like I’m something precious, it doesn’t just feel like forever might be enough. It feels like forever has already started.
As the last chords of the song fade, the silence stretches around us. We don’t stop swaying as his fingertips trace slow, lazy patterns on the small of my back. My hand curls tighter in the fabric at his shoulder, like letting go isn’t even an option. When he speaks, it’s barely above a whisper, but it cuts through me like the first breath after being underwater too long.
“I love you.”
It’s not careful or tested. It’s as unguarded as the look in his eyes when I tilt my face up to him. My breath catches, and fora heartbeat, I can’t speak or move; all I can do is feel. The echo of those words seems to press into every inch of me, like they’re settling into my bones. My lips part, and I let it spill out before fear can catch it.
“I love you, too.”
His inhale is sharp, almost shaky, and then something shifts in him. His grip tightens as his chest rises against mine, the words breaking something open he can’t put back. He dips his head, closing the scant space between us, and then his mouth is on mine.
This kiss isn’t the frantic, desperate one at the door. It’s slow at first, as if he’s tasting the words we just gave each other, memorizing exactly how it feels to have me here. But then the heat flares, and his lips slant over mine with more urgency. His hand at my waist pulls me flush against him until I can feel every beat of his heart against my own.
My fingers slide up into his hair, tangling in the soft strands at the nape of his neck, and a low sound rumbles in his chest that makes my knees threaten to give out. His other hand skims up my spine, his thumb brushing bare skin under the hem of my shirt, and I shiver from the way his touch feels like a promise.
The kiss deepens, tilting toward something hungry, something that tastes like relief and weeks of pent-up want. His breath mingles with mine, quick and warm. Every time I think we might pull back, one of us leans in again, chasing the other like it’s the only thing that matters. When he finally drags his mouth from mine, it’s only far enough to rest his forehead against me, his nose brushing mine.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, not a command but a plea.
“I love you.” The words come out easier now, steadier, but they still feel like they’re shaking something loose inside me.
His lips curve into a smile I can feel against my mouth before he kisses me with all the relief of finding each other again. Thehappiness that swells so big it aches, desire that leaves no doubt we’ll never be the same after this, makes my whole body lean into his like it knows exactly where it belongs.
My back meets the wall before I even realize he’s guided me there, his body braced just close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves. The letter remains crumpled in my hand, pressed between us, but neither of us cares enough to move it ourselves. His fingers slide from my waist to my hip, anchoring me there like he’s afraid the space might widen again if he lets go. I tip my head back, my pulse thrumming under his mouth as he drags a slow, open-mouthed kiss along my jaw.
“God, I missed you,” he murmurs against my skin, the words hot and ragged.
His hand slips under the hem of my shirt, palm spreading wide across the small of my back. The contact is heat and grounding all at once, like he’s trying to pull me closer than physically possible. I can’t help the sound that escapes me, half sigh and half whimper, and it drives him closer. His thigh slides between mine just enough to make me gasp. My hips move without permission, brushing against him as his forehead drops to mine. The music in the background changes, but I barely register it. Everything is the press of his chest against mine, the heat of his hands on my skin, and the taste of him. My hands fist in the back of his shirt to hold him there. It’s messy now, all teeth and desperation, our breaths coming quick between kisses like we can’t get enough air unless we’re taking it from each other.
His thumb strokes slowly over my side, tracing lazy circles against bare skin, and the tenderness of it almost undoes me more than the urgency. Somewhere in the haze, he pulls back just enough to look at me.
“Lisey…” His voice is hoarse, thick with everything we haven’t said until tonight. “Tell me you’re staying.”
My chest tightens, my answer instant and unshakable. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The relief that flashes through him is almost as dizzying as the way he kisses me, like he’s sealing the words into my mouth, making sure they’ll never leave. And in that narrow strip of space just inside the door, with our shoes kicked aside, music low in the background, neither of us takes a single step toward the rest of the apartment. Because here, pressed together and breathless, feels like the only place we’ve ever belonged.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alise
His touch is everywhere—warm, steady, unrelenting—but it still doesn’t feel like enough. It’s been too long since I’ve had him this close, since I’ve felt the weight of his hands on me and the heat of his body pinning me in place like the rest of the world doesn’t matter. My skin drinks it in like I’ve been starving for him, because I have.
Every inch of me strains toward him, desperate to erase the space between us. I press closer, my hips shifting against the solid line of his thigh, and the low, raw sound he makes punches through me. It’s dizzying, the way his mouth finds mine over and over, each kiss hungrier than the last, like we’re both trying to make up for every second apart. The quiet, wrecked way he keeps murmuring my name between kisses reminds me of how badly I’ve missed him.
I tug him closer until we’re nothing but heat and the ragged, uneven pull of our breathing. I don’t want to think about the days he wasn’t here. I don’t want to remember the nights I lay awake, wondering if he’d ever let me back in. Right now, he’s here, and I can’t stop touching him, can’t stop proving to myself he’s real.
The letter slips from my hand, falling unnoticed to the floor, as his mouth leaves mine and trails down the side of my jaw. His stubble scrapes over my skin, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. My gasp comes unbidden, tearing out of me before I can catch it, and he smiles against my neck. It feels so intimate that it makes my chest ache, just before he presses a kiss there that saysI missed youwithout the words.
