Page 55 of The Last Call Home
This isn’t claiming her.Not yet.
It’s a need that settles low in my chest and makes everything else fade.Like she’s the answer to a question, I never thought I was allowed to ask.Warm.Intentional.Hers.
And she’s kissing me like she’s not afraid of what comes next.
I kiss her like she’s the beginning of a future I stopped believing I could have.Like I’m memorizing the moment her lips part for me, her breath warm and hitched, her fingers threading into the collar of my shirt like maybe she needs this just as badly.
The kiss deepens.There’s nothing tentative about it now.Her tongue glides against mine and I feel it all—the frustration, the longing, and the sharp edge of desire that’s been bleeding between us for weeks.
When I pull back, I’m breathless.
Her lips linger close, swollen and flushed, like she might pull me back in if I don’t move first.So I do—slowly pushing to my feet, every nerve still buzzing from the kiss.
And then I turn to Malerick.
He hasn’t moved.But his eyes are locked on mine.Burning.Scared.Needing.His hands braced on the edge of the counter like he’s steadying more than just his body.
“Come here,” I say.Not loud.Just enough for him to hear.My voice catches around it anyway, like I’ve never actually meant those two words before.
He doesn’t move at first.
Then he does.
One step.
Then another.
He crosses the room slowly.Like each footfall is a choice he hasn’t finished making.
When he’s close enough, he doesn’t take my hand.
He grabs it—pulling me up with a force that’s more need than finesse.
I’m barely upright before he’s on me.
One hand curls around the back of my neck, fingers threading through the hair there like he needs something to grip.The other comes to my jaw, thumb dragging across the corner of my mouth like he’s trying to decide whether to hold me still ...or pull me closer until we both fucking break.
And then he kisses me.
Not like the kiss with Delilah.This one’s rougher.Angrier.But it doesn’t feel like he’s angry at me.Instead, it feels like he’s angry at time.At the years we can’t get back.At the ache of everything we buried.Probably at the loss—maybe everything we didn’t say back then.
I kiss him back anyway because fuck if I don’t feel the same.
We break apart when Delilah’s hand slips between us.She doesn’t say anything.Doesn’t need to.
She just looks at us—both of us—and leans in.
And when her mouth brushes mine again, softer this time—less daring, more stay—I feel the shift in both of us.
But it’s Malerick who moves first.
His hand slides behind her neck, thumb tracing the line of her jaw like he’s memorizing her.She turns to him, like she was always meant to—fluid, unafraid.And when their lips meet, it’s not the heat that wrecks me first.
It’s the care.
The way he kisses her ...like he’s learning how to be gentle again.Like he’s not sure he feels unworthy for her mouth, yet he allows letting himself to embrace it anyway.
And I’m watching.
