Now she looks at me as though she’s unraveling from the inside out—and I get it. I am too.
I lean toward her an inch. Close enough to feel her breath when it stutters out. My hand lifts slowly, cupping her jaw. I brush my thumb against the soft skin below her cheekbone. Her eyes flicker shut for half a second, like the touch undoes her.
When they open again, there’s a question in them. A warning.
She doesn’t pull away.
I don’t say anything because I can’t drag my eyes from her beautiful face. I’m trying not to give in to how much I want her. Not only her body. Her mind. Her voice. The parts she tries to hide.
“I haven’t let anyone in like this in a long time,” she admits. Her tone is raw. Honest. “Not since I didn’t think it was worth it.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Seamus.” She swallows.
My name on her lips is my undoing. “I meant everything I said. About how I see you. I still can’t stop thinking about you.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Her breath hitches as she gestures between us.
“Maybe not,” I whisper. “And yet, it does make sense.”
I reach up, brush her hair back, and she closes her eyes.
“I can’t think,” she whispers. “When you’re this close.”
“Then don’t think.” I lean in, slow and deliberate, until her lips are right there—soft, trembling. Inches from mine.
When our mouths finally meet, it’s not rushed or frantic. It’s not needy or wild.
It’s reverent.
A slow slide of her pillowy lips against mine. Warm. Careful. Unbelievably tender.
I feel her breath hitch when I angle my head and brush my mouth against hers like I’ve been dreaming about for months. This kiss has been building since the second I saw her—since the second she shattered every expectation I had and rebuilt it into something I never saw coming.
Her hand curls into the fabric of my shirt. Not pushing me away—holding on. Christ, I feel it everywhere. The heat. The ache. The impossible rightness of this.
When her lips part and I taste more of her, I swear it almost drops me to my knees. It’s a promise. One I feel in the center of my chest—steady and deep and terrifying as hell.
When our kiss deepens and becomes more urgent, my hands find her waist. Hers thread through my hair. When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathing like we’ve run a marathon.
Marcella’s eyes are wide and glassy. Her breathing is shaky. “We shouldn’t.”
“Tell me to stop.” I call her bluff.
She hesitates. Then she doesn’t, kissing me again. Harder this time.
My hands skim her back and I pull her closer. She gasps when I lift her into my lap. Her skirt rides up and she doesn’t seem to care. I’m drowning in her. Inus.
As fast as it starts, she breaks the kiss, pulling back, her hands on my chest.
“No. We can’t.” Her voice cracks. “Not like this. Not tonight.”
I breathe hard, nodding, even as I try to slow my pulse. “Okay. Okay.”
She scrambles off my lap and starts to pace, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have.”
