Page 81 of The Last Call Home
“She had nobody?”Her voice is softer now.
I shake my head.“Just her dad.He died when she was in college.She married, had a family and ...life happened.”
Silence falls again, thick and charged, but this time, it doesn’t feel empty.
She walks over and stops in front of me.Her eyes search mine, and whatever she finds there softens her entire expression.Her hands reach up, tentative at first, then surer.One presses against my chest.The other curves behind my neck as she leans in and pulls me close.
Her arms wrap around me, and I fucking melt into her.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she whispers, her breath brushing my skin.“You didn’t deserve that kind of loneliness.”
I close my eyes for half a second.Just enough to let it hit.
She doesn’t pull away.
“You have Mal now,” she says softly.“And you have me.”
My hand lifts, almost on instinct, sliding around her waist, pulling her against me—closer than before.Her body fits into mine like she was made for this space, like she’s meant to be the one who says that and means it.
Her sweater feels soft beneath my hand, but what captivates me is the way her heartbeat kicks against my chest.Fast.Uncertain.Real.
“Lilah ...”I murmur into her hair.
She tilts her face up to look at me.
The air pulls taut, strung between her parted lips and the way her eyes lock on mine.
And I know.
If I kiss her right now, I won’t let her go.There’s no walking this back.No pretending we’re just toeing the line, hoping things will work out between us.I’ll fucking make it work because I’ll want to keep her.Every inch.Every breath.Every impossible piece of her that still doesn’t know how much she’s worth.
So, I do.I kiss her.
Not like the last time, when it was need pressed between restraint.Not like before, when it was fueled by confusion and all the things we hadn’t dared to say yet.
This kiss is different.It’s surrender.
It’s branding—heat and memory etched into skin.
It’s the beginning of something we no longer have to fear.
I press my mouth to hers and she gives in without hesitation—soft, hungry, aching with all the moments we’ve had to hold back.Her lips part, and I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding up to cradle the back of her neck, while the other is locked at her waist like I’m terrified she’ll vanish if I don’t keep her right here.
And maybe I am.Perhaps I’ve never wanted something this badly.Not just her body.Not just the way she tastes like cinnamon and tension and fucking hope.I want to love her in all the ways she always wanted.In the ways she deserves.In the ways that leave no trace of doubt in her beautiful, overthinking mind and guarded heart that this—us—is real.
That this is home.
And I want it forever.
She moans into my mouth, soft and broken, and it devastates me in the most beautiful way.Her nails skim the base of my skull, pulling me deeper, closer, like she wants to crawl inside me and live there.And, fuck, if I could let her—I would.I’d build a place inside myself made only for her.
When we finally break apart, we don’t move far.Our foreheads press together, breath shared, and hearts thudding between us.
But it’s not enough.
Not when her hands are still in my hair.
Not when her mouth is right there, pink and kiss swollen.
