Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(57)

“I agree. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get involved.” For so many reasons. However, that doesn’t mean I have the willpower not to give in. My feelings have been building since he walked into my office, apologized, and handed over the key to the athletic facility. Probably even before that.

His eyes lift, grin rueful. “It feels a lot like we’re already involved.”

I lick my lips, my mouth dry. “I don’t want either of us to get hurt,” I admit.

With his eyes still on mine, he raises our clasped hands and drags my knuckles down his cheek. “I promise I will never do anything to intentionally cause you pain. So if you need me to leave, I’ll go.”

I close my eyes, warring with myself. I should tell him to go, but it doesn’t mean I want to or that I will.

Because he’s right. Despite all the reasons we shouldn’t be together, there’s something here. He’s an old soul, whether from experience and trauma or because he’s lived his entire life in everyone else’s shadow while still being forced into the limelight. He’s wise beyond his years.

“I don’t want you to go.” It’s more breath than words.

He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry I’m making this so hard for you. I wanted to leave you alone, to step back and fuck off. But being close to you calms me in a way I can’t fully explain.”

“Like you said, if I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have let you in the door.” This is the honesty he seems to need.

His lips hover over my knuckles. “Can I kiss you?”

I give myself permission to submit to the wanting. “Yes.”

“Are you sure, Clover?”

I lift my gaze to his. “I’m sure.”

He holds it for several long seconds and then reaches out and sweeps his fingertips from my temple to the edge of my jaw. “We’re not doing anything wrong. It’s okay to want.”

I’m not sure if he’s reassuring me or himself. He flips my hand over and presses his warm lips to the inside of my wrist. I smile as a slight grin turns up one corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t say where I was going to kiss you.” His expression turns serious as he lifts my hand and wraps it around the back of his neck. “Is this okay?”

The way he seeks permission is unbearably sexy. “Yes, it’s okay.”

“Good. That’s good.” He nods once as he drags a fingertip along my cheekbone. “Can I kiss you here?”

“Yes, please,” I whisper.

His lips brush my cheek, and his thumb sweeps along my bottom lip. “What about here?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?” He murmurs the words against the corner of my mouth.

“I’m sure.” I start to turn toward his lips, but he cups my face in his palms, expression so earnest, it nearly breaks my heart.

“I don’t want to take what you don’t want to give, Clover.”

“I want this, even if I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise.” I tug on the back of his neck, and his lips meet mine, soft and tentative.

Until I take the last step and close the space between us.

It’s been months since I’ve been this close to him without barriers. I’ve been trying to keep boundaries, mental and otherwise. Now, though, I can feel every ridge and angle, the soft and hard of him.

A low groan leaves him, and he pulls my bottom lip between his, sucking gently. His hand comes around my waist, pulling me in tighter as we angle our heads, lips parting, accepting each other in.

I push aside my fears and give in to the heady desire. Our tongues tangle in languorous, drugging sweeps that make my knees weak and awaken primal need. He breaks the kiss, and his mouth moves along my neck, all soft lips, wet tongue, and a hint of teeth. “So fucking sweet. I’ve missed the way you taste.” When he reaches the hollow behind my ear, the fingers of his free hand sweep down my side and settle on my hip. “Will you let me take you to bed?”

“Please.”

He backs up until he can see my face and I can see his. “Unless you’re good. I mean, we can chill out, drink tea, play a round of Scrabble.” He thumbs over his shoulder to the living room, where the Scrabble board is sitting on the coffee table. “Whatever you want.”

“You did not come here to play Scrabble.” I grab the front of his shirt and try to pull his mouth back to mine.

He tips his head back so all I can reach is his chin, and he smirks down at me. “It might not have been my primary reason, but it could have been one of them.”

“You’ve been talking a big game for a while now, Maverick. You getting performance anxiety on me?”

His smile widens. “You’re my favorite fucking person, you know that?” He runs his hands down my back and cups my ass, lifting me off the floor and wrapping my legs around his waist. “Bed first. Scrabble later.” He holds me up high, his lips on my neck as he carries me down the hall to my bedroom.

“I hope the only thing I have energy for after this is a glass of wine and some pillow talk.”

“I can deliver on that.” He pushes the door open and kicks it shut behind him. “Well, not the wine, unless you have some, but I’d be willing to drive around and see if there’s an all-night liquor store later.”