Page 50 of Falling Into Forever
And it’s because he’s watching me so closely that I sink into a kiss that tastes like home and feels like safety.
Old fears of dragging him into my darkness and new fears of Poppy, Trent, and our careers fade into the background when his hands cup my face and angle it the way he likes.
He always did like control of our kisses, and it’s the one place I was more than happy to give him that power.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, and my entire body sings with life that’s been missing. He makes no effort to deepen the kiss or rush it. No, Dante Thompson is happily, thoroughly reacquainting himself with my body through this lazy brush of lips and tongues.
The longer he owns my mouth, the more my body lights up. That nervous energy that lives inside me gathers itself and darts through me like a colony of bees protecting their queen before settling deep in my core—a constant buzz of need and desire.
I might come from a kiss. A freaking kiss.
When my body is about to snap, he pulls away. My mouth follows him before I catch myself, and I blink rapidly to clear my vision.
He may have just kissed me stupid.
“Hi,” he whispers, still holding my face in place.
It’s like waking up from the most pleasant dream after a lifetime of nightmares.
“Hi.”
“I’m going to be real honest with you here, Sayls.”
My mind is a swirling tornado of activity.
“I’ve missed you so damn much,” he says.
I nod when my throat is too itchy to speak.
I can’t bring myself to say the words. Not when there’s so much left unsaid. Not when he’ll realize there can’t really be a do-over for us.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. His hands release my face and land on both of mine with a gentle squeeze, forcing me to stay in the moment.
“This is going to be hard.”
“What is?”
Slipping a hand free, I wave it between the two of us. “It’s going to be hard not to get attached.”
He takes a step back and leans against the counter, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the granite. “Why shouldn’t we get attached, Saylor?” There’s that tone again. The one that tells me he’s doing his best to stay calm, but now my body sparks to life with a completely different energy—anxiety.
“For all the reasons I told you last night.” Despite the quiver in my voice, I stand tall and gather the strength not stolen by his kiss. “The reasons I never reached out to you once my anxiety and depression were better managed. My life is here.” My hands gesture around my home again. When I notice how aggressively I’m waving, I tuck them under my armpits to avoid reaching for him.
He tilts his head, waiting for me to continue.
“And your life is there.” I nod a little too animatedly with my head toward the door. “In California, I mean. You have a family and clients and a life that’s not conducive to a reclusive author who only likes going out when everyone else is asleep. I have days…”
I pause to press my fingers into my temples like it will make this easier. “Not as many as I used to, but there are still times when my mind tricks my body into feeling pain so excruciating, I can’t even get out of bed. There are days when I wake up in the middle of a panic attack so awful, I black out.”
His face crumples, but I’m on a roll and keep going.
“You’re happy, and I’m—not. You like running, and I can’t even do a silent meditation. You’re confident and successful, regardless of what’s happening with your company right now, andthis”—I point aggressively at myself—“does not work in that lifestyle.”
He swallows slowly, and my focus locks on the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Are you done?” he asks when I just stare back.
Am I done?Ugh, how dare he? My mouth hangs open in exasperation, but what am I going to do? I am done—I think.
“For now, I guess.” My shoulders roll forward, and I hop up onto the island. Even this conversation is exhausting. What the hell is going on with me? If this is what feelings do to you, no wonder I’ve tried to embargo them in a tiny bottle.
