You Deserve Each Other(90)

“Mm?”

“Here,” he says as his lips brush where my heart beats, letting the pain and ache bleed into his voice. “I’ve missed you here.” He kisses my mouth. “And here.” My fingers tunnel into his hair, and his turn to fists that burrow into the mattress, lifting his body over mine. He stares deeply into my eyes. “Here.”

The word is a pale breath.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I reply, the edges of my vision going gray and blurry. Nothing else exists right now. The world begins and ends with this man.

I don’t know I’m crying until he wipes it away and his own eyes shimmer with tears.

We deepen the kiss, and it says what we don’t have to. I tug him closer, closer, until we align all over. When we part for breath, I ask, “Do you know you’re my best friend?”

“Am I?”

His eyes are sapphires held in front of a roaring flame, glinting as they’re turned. I know every microscopic detail of his face. I know the shape of his brows for every emotion. He is the most beautiful man who ever lived, and at one time I couldn’t have said with any certainty what color eyes he had. He was no more memorable than a picture hanging on the wall that I’d long gotten used to. How many times did my gaze pass right over him, not realizing he was looking back at me? Always watching. Listening. Waiting.

“You are.” My heartbeat is painfully strong and my torso is a twisted rag. My lungs claw for oxygen. Another tear slips over my cheek, which he kisses away.

I’m falling apart, and I think that Nicholas sees.

His hand is warm as it passes through my hair. His eyes are so tender that my muscles involuntarily relax, fingers uncurling. He buries his face in my throat and inhales. “God, I’ve missed you. Naomi.”

My name trembles in the air, and speech has never been so hard to find. But he needs it. He needs me to give voice to my feelings, because he’s not a mind reader and it’s not okay that I soak up what he gives without offering myself in return. I can’t let him think he’s alone, not for one moment.

“I like it right here,” I tell him, cradling either side of his face between my hands. “You make me happy. It makes me happy that you came home because I missed you; I’m appreciative of everything you do, for me and anybody else. I’m lucky to be with a thoughtful man like you and I’m sorry that I’ve taken you for granted and acted like a jerk. I’m thankful that you stayed put until I found you again. You supporting me, and making me feel valuable, is everything.”

He smiles and leans his cheek into my palm. My throat constricts, more tears welling up. I blink and splash the pillow. It’s not scary anymore to strip down like this in front of him. He’s got me. He’s right here, and I’ve got him, too. “Relearning you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He rubs a thumb over my cheekbone, down to my jaw. “I’m thankful you’ve forgiven me,” he says. “I’m sorry for every time I’ve ever made you feel unimportant. You are the most important, and I’m working on showing that better. You’re my best friend, too. I have more fun with you than anyone else, and I like how you challenge me. I like being around you and when I’m not around you, I’m always thinking about you. I want you to know I’m thinking about you all the time.”

It feels so lovely to be good to each other.

Being this close and not arching into him is an exercise in restraint. I’m starving, and I can feel that he is, too. He skates a heated glance down my body and his eyes haze, chest rising and falling more deeply.

I try not to let my voice shake when I say, “Where else have you missed me?”

He arches an eyebrow and a devious grin tugs at his lips. Actions, not words, are his reply. He divests me of my shirt and shows me where with his hands. My shorts and underwear follow, and he shows me with his mouth. Every little touch is magnified a thousandfold because it’s been a hundred years and counting since we’ve been skin on skin. I’m on fire and this has got to be downright excruciating for him, so I pull him back up to me.

“Hey, there,” he says softly.

“Mine.” I don’t have the mental faculties for conversation. I’m a single-minded cavewoman. “I need you. Now.”

“You’ve still been taking the pill, right?”

“Yes.”

I slam his mouth to mine and while our tongues are busy, I impatiently yank down the waistband of his boxers. He leans back somewhat to help, laughing against my cheek. I feel the vibrations all the way down and it makes me crazy; I’d shake him for his ability to be amused right now if his extremely urgent erection didn’t tell a different story. He’s multitasking again, being aroused and entertained at the same time. It’s not fair that he can divide his attention and I can’t.

I palm him between the legs, and am rewarded with a fluttering of eyelids, Adam’s apple working up and down. His breath is sugar, the taste melting in my mouth.

“More?” I tease.

He lets his eyes fall closed and tilts his head back, surrendering to the sensations. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

His eyes flare wide, holding me captive. He grates a word, low and guttural. “Please.”

“Mmm, we’ll see.” I bite his lower lip gently between my teeth and scrape my nails down his chest, ending the journey with a tight stroke. I moan into his ear and steal away his hard-fought control. Nicholas groans when I undulate against him. His murmurs, too quiet for me to understand, track down my throat and chest until he finds something he likes.