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Slowly, she lowers to her knees, sliding the cake before me on the coffee table. She looks up at me as my heart seizes in my chest, my gut twisting with a need the kind I've never felt, not once, in my life.

She’s beautiful on her knees.

She breathes, “Happy birthday, Tate.”

I can't wait for this woman to call me husband.

I lean forward and blow out the candles, every last one.

Her eyes never leave me as she pouts. “No girlfriend. Ouch.”

“If you knew the flame that burns inside me for you, you wouldn't say that,” I tell her darkly as I search her eyes.

She swallows, wetting her lips again. “I'll cut the cake.”

I stand when she stands, crowding her. “I don't want cake.”

She takes a step back. I step forward.

We do this until her back connects with the wall, breath catching in her throat. Her eyes drop to my mouth before flicking back up again. She inhales shakily, sharply.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

Her lips part, and I don't deny myself this taste that I've craved since I walked through the door.

I dip my head and devour her lips. I kiss her like I haven't kissed her yet, with the intent to have all of her. To taste all of her. To know all of her. To consume all of her the way that she has consumed me for years.

Her hands lift around my neck, fingers diving into my hair as she pulls me closer. She meets my hunger with a hunger of her own, and that flame inside me roars to life. The kiss turns bruising with need that she doesn't back down from.

I break away to give her air. Inhaling the scent of her skin, like sweet peaches and vanilla spice, I growl, “You taste like heaven.”

I suck at her throat.

She whimpers.

“Tate,” she moans my name, and every other thought aside from having her beneath me vanishes from my mind.

I grind into her, no longer trying to hide the fact that I want her, no longer hiding the way I need her.

I’ve waited for her, for this moment, patiently.

I'm no longer patient.

“Oh my God.” She sucks a gulp of air in the moment before my mouth returns to hers.

I kiss her hard, almost violently. Again, she meets my energy.

She's perfection, and she's mine. I know she is. In my heart, in my soul, I know she was always meant to be mine.

Our tongues tangle, teeth gnashing, lips crushing. I lift her against the wall, and she spreads her legs around my waist as I grind into her again, hating the fabric between us.

She moans at the feel of me between her legs, hard and wanting.

Gravel spills around my words as I tell her, “I can't wait to watch you take me.”

She shudders in my arms, but when I crush my mouth to hers again, she rolls her hips into me in a way that has my mind spinning around her. I couldn’t be more wrapped up in this woman. More obsessed with loving her.