Unbreak My Heart(42)

Everything feels possible.

Everything feels right.

I break the kiss, my breath coming hard and fast. I can’t hold back anymore. I need her to know. I have to say it. “There’s no point pretending. I love you so much.”

“I didn’t think we were pretending.” She grabs my face, holds my cheeks. “I love you so much too.”

The night sky bursts open. All the stars shine on us. Somewhere, a new rock anthem is born, and it’s epic.

I drop my forehead to hers, inhaling the sweet smell of her. “I feel like I’m falling in love with you all over again, but I also never stopped loving you. Does that make any sense at all?”

She laughs lightly and drags her hands through my hair. “It makes all the sense in the world. I’m in love with you in a whole new way now.”

My lips curve up into a grin. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think you can be undone.”

I raise a brow in question.

She taps her chest. “You did something to me long ago, and you’re here. Permanently. All these feelings for you—they were latent for the last few years. But now they’re back, and they’re brand-new, and they’re not going anywhere.”

My heart soars to another galaxy. This is too much. Too perfect. And for tonight, I want only the perfection of this moment. I clasp her face. “I want you back. I need you back. Be with me.”

“I’m yours,” she says, with a vulnerable, desperate look in her eyes that matches everything I feel for her. This is letting someone in. This is opening your whole heart.

I scoop her up, carrying her to the futon in my bedroom.

I feel like I’ve had too much caffeine, or like it’s my birthday and all I want to do is open my presents. I tell myself to slow down, to not rip off her clothes, to take my time because we have time. But I don’t listen to those plans.

Frantic and frenzied, we undo zippers and tug at buttons, and soon I’m down to black boxer briefs and she’s in red panties with white polka dots.

My throat goes dry as I pull them off and gaze at her naked body once more. She’s the most beautiful sight. I run a hand along the back of her leg, thrilled to touch her like this. Her body moves against my palm, and she gasps, a soft, lingering sigh. It’s all so achingly familiar and so incredibly new at the same time.

She arches into my touch, and my pulse spikes.

I know her. I know what to give her.

She lets out the sexiest groan as I run my fingers down her bare legs. “You know I’m not stopping this time, right?”

“You better not.”

“Now that we’re in agreement . . .”

I start at her ankle, and she shivers under my touch. I look up at her, and she looks down at me, and we lock eyes for a moment. Then she whispers, “Don’t stop,” and I reacquaint myself with her knees and her thighs, her belly and her hips, and everything between.

I close my eyes as I kiss her where she wants me. She’s soft and wet and better than anything.

Her legs fall open, and she murmurs something I can’t make out. She’s already slipping into the zone, and that’s where my girl likes to be. Holland is the most giving person I’ve ever known, but in bed she’s greedy, and I couldn’t be happier that she wants pleasure, she wants touch, she wants to be adored.

I can do that. I can give that to her, and I do, going down on her like it’s been three years and I’m starving, because it fucking has and I fucking am. I’m so damn hungry for her, and she tastes like heaven on my tongue, my lips, my chin.

I want to be covered in her, and the way she responds, arching and writhing and chanting my name, tells me she wants all the same things—more and more.

She cries out in bliss, then moans and groans, and the wild noises nearly break my resolve to do it again, since I’m dying to be inside her. But I’m up to the task of giving her another orgasm before I lose myself in her warmth.

I take it slower, kissing the inside of her thighs, nipping her flesh till she’s reduced to a twisting, moaning, hot, wet mess that I love. Her hands curl around my head again, wrapping in my hair, and she pulls and tugs and shouts incoherent sounds that are the best serenade ever. It’s a perfect dirty karaoke encore as I bring her to the edge once more.

When her gasps slow, I crawl up her body, and she looks drunk on me, smiling like a happy fool, her eyes all hazy, her hair a mess.

Her blue eyes twinkle, and she rises, tugging at my waistband. “Get naked too,” she tells me and pushes off my boxers. She groans as she runs a hand along my length, and this—this is better than anything.

Coming back together.

“Hold on.”

I reach for a condom from the nightstand. “I was kind of hoping this would happen, so I wanted to be prepared.”

She arches a brow. “Kind of hoping?”

“More like fervently wishing and praying.” I wink.

“Ditto.”

I unwrap it and cover myself. She curls her hands over my shoulders, tugs me close, and whispers my name.

“Andrew.”

She doesn’t say “make love to me.” She doesn’t have to. She knows that’s all I’ve ever done to her. That when I fuck her it’s always with love.

It’s never been just sex between us. It never will be. When you’re inside the woman who makes the hole in your heart disappear, it can’t be only physical. It’s everything.