Page 36 of The Only Heart that Matters
“Angus, I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
He curses under his breath, and his body relaxes. His head angles as he leans in for a kiss, but I pull back.
“If we do this, it has to be a one-time thing. Nobody can ever know. Especially Daisy. Are you sure one night is all this is?”
“One night.”
It’s the answer I need to hear, even if it’s not the one I want. A zap of pain goes straight to my heart, and he must see it in my expression, because he has more to say.
“But this isn’t a one-night stand, Mia.Youare far more than that, and you deserve better than me. But I’m a selfish bastard and I’m asking you to give yourself to me anyway.”
It’s like he’s in my head and knows exactly what I need to hear to ease the pain in my chest. Although he has it backwards, he’s the one who deserves better than me.
“I’m a little rusty,” I confess.
“Yeah?”
“I haven’t really, well, you know, since Sawyer.”
As if I’ve just returned the favor and said exactly whatheneeded to hear, his lips crash into mine. It appears he’s done talking.
He lifts me back up onto the island and pushes my coat off my shoulders. The slit in my dress is so high that when he gently pulls my legs apart, my dress falls open, leaving me exposed to him. He steps between my thighs, running his hands up and down my legs.
When I first saw it, I thought my dress was too much. Too sexy for a wedding, but the way Angus watched me all day... has touched me all night... I’d say it was just right.
I feel beautiful.
Kind of hot, if I’m being honest.
Not like a mom.
The material is thin, allowing me to feel every touch Gus has placed on my body.
His eyes dart back and forth between mine as if searching each one to make sure this is really happening. Like he finds it hard to believe this is what I want, and he’s looking for the faintest hint of reluctance.
To see this self-assured man second-guess whether I want him as much as he wants me astounds me. How couldhebe the one feeling doubtful when he’s all I’ve ever wanted?
Assuring him with a nod, I pull on his tie to bring him closer, hating to have his lips so far away now that they’ve been on mine. Needing him to know just how wanted he is.
“Kiss me.”
It’s not a request.
He follows my order. His hands only leave my body when I push his suit jacket off him. Before it hits the ground, his hands are back on me, rubbing up my thighs and around to my ass. He grips me tightly, bringing me to the edge of the counter.
Needing more, I tug his shirt out of his pants. My fingers fumble over the buttons. Pulling back so I can see what I’m doing, I say, “I need to touch you.”
While I loosen his tie and work on the buttons at the top of his shirt, he starts from the bottom up.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
My hands reach under the material and glide across his pecs. His shirt opens and I place a kiss over his heart, gently pushing his shirt off his shoulders. “I need to touch you. I want you, Angus.”
The faint smell of champagne tickles my senses as his breath comes out in a heated rush. His relief is palpable. The pressure of his fingertips intensifies against my thighs, but he doesn’t move them from where they hang onto me for dear life.
His reaction to my words, my touch, sends a powerful sensation through my system. It awakens something that has been buried deep inside me.
He removes his hands from my legs holding them up in front of him. “Show me what you want, Mia.”
