One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(102)

Yoss took his cup and smiled at my added touches. “This is great. Thank you.”

“So, I’ve told you some of my fun stories. What about you? I want to hear about some of yours,” I said, taking a chocolate chip cookie from the tin.

Yoss frowned, sipping on his tea. “I’ve never been skiing or snuck backstage at a concert, I’m afraid.”

“Remember something that made you smile, Yoss. It can’t have been all bad.”

I hoped it hadn’t.

Yoss stirred his tea and looked thoughtful. “That day at the flea market was pretty amazing. I think that was one of the happiest times I can remember.”

My heart simultaneously soared and fell.

I loved that I was his happiest memory. I hated that they were the only ones he could recall.

“What about after I…after you…” I stumbled over my words, struggling. “Something after me,” I finally got out.

Yoss was quiet for a while, slowly stirring his tea.

He looked up at me after some time had passed, his green eyes intense. “Right now,” he said. “Right now is my best story.”

This man had the power to break my heart in so many ways.

It splintered and fractured. His truth hurt.

“There’s nothing else? Nothing from the last fifteen years that made you smile?” I pushed.

Yoss rolled his hand over and threaded his fingers through mine. “Knowing you were safe. Knowing you were living your life. That made me smile.”

I leaned across the table and cupped the back of his head, pulling him forward. Our lips met half way.

“You’re my smile, Imi. Always have been.” He kissed me with abandon. A passion unleashed. “Always will be,” he murmured into my mouth.

Somehow we got to our feet. A moan tore from my throat and we were both on our feet, arms wrapped around each other, crushed in the tightest embrace.

His teeth nipped at my lips. My tongue swept over his. His fingers dug into my back. My hands clutched his shirt.

Yoss walked me across the room, never breaking our kiss. My back collided with the counter and he helped me up so that I could wrap my legs around his waist. I could feel him against me. Hard and wanting.

I was buzzing. On fire. A thousand sparks shot through my body. A warmth bubbled in my belly. Between my legs where I cradled him.

With shaking fingers he slowly eased his hands up my shirt, touching bare skin for the first time since I was seventeen. I jolted at the contact.

Yoss instantly stilled, taking the movement as rejection. He started to pull his hand out from my shirt and I grabbed him, holding him in place. “Please, Yoss. Touch me,” I breathed.

I brought his hand up to my breast. “Touch me,” I repeated raggedly. I begged him. I implored.

I needed his hands on me. Everywhere.

He ran his thumb over my hard nipple and I shuddered, lifting my hips to rub against him. In a flurry of movement Yoss pulled my shirt over my head so that I was sitting on the counter in just my jeans and bra.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, worshipping me with his eyes. Slowly, too slowly, he lowered his mouth to my chest. Kissing. Licking. Taking his time.

He sucked on my nipple through the fabric and I arched my back with a loud groan. I gripped the back of his head and held him as his suckled my still covered skin.

Yoss reached behind my back and fumbled with the clasp of my bra. “How do you take this stupid thing off?” he grumbled.

“It’s an evil machination invented by women to drive men crazy,” I intoned darkly, grinning like mad when Yoss ripped it from my body, not bothering with the clasp.

“That’s one way to do it,” I chuckled. “Your turn.” I unbuttoned his shirt, carefully peeling it from his body, throwing it on the floor with my shirt and bra. His skin was rough under my fingers. The slightly yellow hue more pronounced in the artificial light in the kitchen.

“So many,” I murmured touching each of his scars. “Too many.” I kissed them. One at a time. Loving them.

Yoss’s hand ran down my back as I made my way over each and every reminder of his past. I didn’t shy from them. I embraced them in a way I hadn’t been able to as a teenager.

But I was a woman now. With my own scars. I understood the cost of baring them.

“You don’t have to.” Yoss sounded so ashamed.

I looked up at him. “I know.”

He kissed me again. Harder. Desperate. All hands and tongues and mouths.

I unbuttoned his jeans, letting them fall in a puddle around his ankles. His narrow hips not holding them in place. His erection pressed against me and I gasped at the feel of him.

In a moment of frenzy I bit down on his lip. Hard. I tasted his blood in my mouth.

Yoss pulled back as though I had burned him. His hand came up and touched his bleeding skin.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I reached out for him, but he backed away. He bent down and pulled up his pants, buttoning them again.

“We can’t,” was all he said. He grabbed a napkin and held it to his lip. “I can’t expose you to…” he struggled with the words. “To me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that, it was stupid of me—”

“That’s not the point, Imi. I want to. God, do I want to. But we can’t forget, for one moment, that I’m sick. That I could make you sick.” He ran his hands through his hair, still breathing erratically, his chest rising and falling quickly.