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Tal-ia. Tal-ia. Tal-ia. Tal-ia.
She’s kissing me.
She missed me.
She loves me.
The longer I went without hearing the words, the more doubt sewed itself into my mind. They always sat on the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken, but I couldn’t, not with the fear of the unknown.
This kiss is roaring thunder, crashing waves, and fierce winds. But those three words are crucial to this moment. I need to hear them, even just a whisper.
Our lips break apart, bodies still pressed tightly together. Hooded eyes, golden and shining with tears, stare up at me.
“You still love me?” My voice cracks as I seek her testimony. “We’re still…You’re still mine.”
Not a question.
A fact.
She promises more kisses when her lips brush mine, cherry red and swollen. “Always. And I’m so sorry—”
I silence her with a punishing press of our mouths, sucking up her apology. “No more sorrys.” I drop my forehead to hers, winding my arm tighter around her waist. Closer. I need her closer. “Let me kiss you some more. Let me feel you, with no walls, no outside world. Just us, Tally Girl.”
Her lashes flutter against my cheeks before she pulls apart, stepping away. I hold fast, frowning. “Where are you going?”
“Shh. Be patient.” She doesn’t completely sever our connection, keeping our fingers laced as she walks backward, leading me toward the stairs. I follow her, like a lost sailor searching out a beacon in a storm until we reach a door.
The door to our bedroom.
She stops, but I don’t. I move until she’s trapped between the wood and my solid body.
“I haven’t slept in here since the day you left.” Curious hands roam my torso, toying with the edge of my T-shirt. Her fingertips press into the skin above my belt. Soft and teasing. “I hate sleeping alone, but I hated the idea of sleeping alone in our bed even more.” She reaches behind her and cracks the door open. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
We go crashing over the threshold with feverish motions and urgent kisses. Clothes disintegrate, teeth nip, hands cup and squeeze and caress every inch of exposed skin.
I sit on the footboard, pulling her between my spread legs as I leave hot kisses down her neck, across her clavicle, finishing between her breasts before staring up at her.
She’s almost naked, save for the simple black panties.
And I want her completely bare.
But then my attention moves to the dresser.
She follows my gaze; her searching hands pause as they drag through my hair.
I don’t want to know why she took it off, not right now. Cautious eyes follow my steps toward the dresser, and I pick up the cool metal ring, resting it in my palm. In weight, it’s nearly nothing; in meaning, it’s everything.
Talia stands in the middle of our room, strikingly beautiful. I study the slope of her hips, her tear-shaped breasts, heavy and full, and the prettiest shade of pink dusting her ivory skin.
She tracks my movements when I approach, her breathing harsh. I hold the ring out, letting it glint under the light, before coasting it down her sternum, stopping just above the waistband of her underwear. Goose bumps erupt along the path, making her shiver. I slip the ring past the edge of her panties before gliding back up her body. She hisses when the cold metal skims the two rosy peaks of her breasts, begging for my mouth.
“Tate,” she breathes as I circle her nipple. “Quit teasing.”
“You’ve tortured me for weeks.” I raise her hand, kissing the tip of her ring finger. “Tell me where this belongs?”
Her pupils are blown wide. “On my hand.”
“And why is that?” I peck light kisses across her knuckles.
