Page 54 of Tough Love
I shouldn’t be mad. Technically we’d been over for years. But what he said about challenging my fictional boyfriend, about how he still loves me, even now. Wow.
“I know it sucks to hear that, but understand why I’m telling you this.”
I stare at him blankly, unable to comprehend how dropping that on me helps things in any way.
“I’m laying it all on the table.” He places a hand on my leg, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb on the inside of my thigh. “I don’t want to fuck this up a third time, Amelia. I want there to be nothing between us, no secrets, no mysteries.”
“Us?”
His lips tilt up on one side. “Yeah. Us. Is that something you want?”
Of course it is, but those last revelations … I need time to process things. “Of course it is.”
“But?”
“But, I’m not sure if I can do this right now,” I admit, gesturing in the small space between us.
His eyes light up as he leans forward, so close our noses almost touch, and whispers, “What do you mean by ‘this’?”
Gulp.“You know what I mean.” I swear if I poke my tongue out I could lick him, he’s that close.
“Nope. I don’t.”
I turn my face away, choking on the words, but he’s not having a bar of it. Gentle yet firm fingers find my chin, and he directs my face back to his.
I want to say it, so badly, especially after he admitted he still loves me, but the words stick, lodged in my throat like a powdery pill on a dry swallow.You’re all I think about. Your eyes are fucking magical. You make me want to kiss you, every day, and forever.
Seems he feels the same way, though.
The sofa dips as he leans into me, still with my chin in his grasp, and guides my lips to his. It’s slow, hesitant, and respectful. His mouth gently rests against mine, pinching my bottom lip between his, giving me all the time in the world to protest. And yet, it still sets my soul on fire—even after all these years. It was as though he never left, as though the years have been nothing but our lives stuck on pause. A ripple of awareness washes over my flesh as he tugs on my lip again, growing a little more forceful as I reciprocate.
I’m here, with the man I wished to have, but ironically already knew.
I sigh against his lips, his tongue testing my resolve as I place a hand against his firm chest, feeling his muscles twitch beneath my palm. A strong hand rests against the back of my head, and he knits his fingers into my hair, pulling me closer as our breaths mingle into one.
It’s beautiful, yet wrong. I shouldn’t be feeling this good, enjoying myself with such abandon on today of all days.
It adds a new layer of ice to how cold and careless my heart is when it comes to my family.
What if Mum and Dad walked in? What would they think, finding their surviving daughter on the sofa making out with the guy who broke their daughter’s heart once before?
I pull away, my chest heaving. Every part of me wants to climb the damn man like a tree and show him how thankful I am to be appreciated, how much his admission means to me.
How much I still love him too.
“We shouldn’t be…. I mean, I liked it, but … not today.” I sigh, burying my face in my hands.
I’m such a harlot.
“Hey.” Evan prises my hands away, stroking the side of my face. “I get it. And I’m sorry. I just….” He chuckles, shaking his head as he flops back into the far end of the sofa. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that again every day for the last nine years.”
“Does it still live up to expectations?” I tease.
He smirks, nodding with bright eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”
Awkward seconds pass with us locked in a battle of wills. My body’s rigid with the pressure I have it under not to inch toward him, to not restart what we probably wouldn’t finish. And judging by the way his jaw grinds as he stares at me like he could devour me in one sitting, I think Evan feels the same way.
“Hungry?” I ask, launching off the sofa.