I step toward him. Slowly, I place my hand on his chest. He’s stock still, his gaze like lava fire, coursing over my skin.
“So, I guess the truth is finally out there, then?” I put my other hand at the nape of his neck, and his eyes flutter shut. “About your tattoo, that is.”
He blinks and stares down at me. “My tattoo?”
“I’m guessing you don’t have a thing forBeauty and the Beastafter all.”
He chuckles softly. It’s low and throaty, and his gaze is even more determined now. “I only have a thing for you.”
I pull his face down to mine, and I kiss him.
It’s slow and sweet, both of us reacclimating ourselves to something that once felt as natural as breathing. My entire body hums to life, like I’ve grown a new set of nerve endings, and they’re crackling to attention. Anton’s fingers run up and down my back, and instinctively my spine tightens and I arch closer to him. His soft touches are tantalizing and careful. His hands find my waist, and he squeezes above my hips, holding me upright. It’s a good thing, too, because even though in the grand scheme of kisses, this one’s pretty chaste, it still has me feeling like myskeleton might liquify and leave the rest of me a pile of mush on the floor.
Anton spears his hands through my hair, his thumbs coming to rest on the hollow below my ears. He takes his time, and I whimper because I want more. He’s warm and solid, and I can’t get enough. I press my body closer to him.
He responds immediately, replacing gentleness with power as he scoops me into his arms, putting his hands under my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist while he backs me to the nearest bookshelf. He sets me on my feet and proceeds to make me feel lit up all over, like I’m a human twinkling light. I’ve been asleep for the past five years, and now I’m awake and the sunrise is breath-stealing.
He’s everywhere, all at once. His capable, commanding hands hold me like I’m precious and like I’mhis. Like he won’t let anything else touch me, because that’s his job. He splays one palm on my back, pulling me close to him and then leaning in. He anchors us both to the bookcase with the delicious weight of his body. His other hand traces a scorching path along my ribcage, up to the column of my neck, and around the shell of my ear before he angles my jaw and continues to have his way with my mouth.
My hands are greedy as they fly over the contours of his arms and shoulders. The pads of my fingers connect with the exposed skin at the back of his neck, and it’s hot to my touch. He groans into my mouth as I knead it tenderly before lacing my fingers through his hair. I relish the silky softness of it and then tighten my grip and use it to get the leverage I’m craving to tug his mouth harder to mine.
We go back and forth, a give-and-take kiss that encompasses everything I want in a partnership. It’s playful and serious. Soft and strong. He’s cherishing me. I’m treasuring him. It’s a selfless kiss. A competition to see who can take better care of the other, and we’re both winning.
We spend a long time, lost in each other, before Anton drags his lips from mine and starts trailing kisses along my jaw.
“I’ve missed you every single day, Sammy Rose.” His mouth is dry ice, making me hot and shivery all at once. He’s powerful and controlled and wholly focused on me.Me.
“I’ve longed for you,” he scrapes out.
I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as I whisper, “Yes.”
He freezes for a moment before shifting and forcing me to look at him. His eyes are dilated to a point where I can’t see any blue or green…only inky black pools of love and hope. He’s fighting to get his breathing under control. I can feel his heart pounding.
“Yes what?”
“Yes. I want you to love me.”
He exhales a shuddering breath and buries his head in the crook of my neck. I hold him as he holds me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this has the potential to be a terrible idea—to crash, burn, and implode spectacularly. Because doing this with Anton again means turning my back on my job with the agency and forfeiting the overseas career move. It means I’ll need to stand up to my father—and Anton’s mother, if it comes to it—and come clean with Anton about what I’ve been doing and who I’ve been working for. The only way it’ll work between us is complete honesty. I owe him that. The thought is terrifying, but not as terrifying as living one more day without at least trying to make something work with the best man I’ve ever known.
I’ll figure that all out tomorrow…or the next day. For now, I want to stay right here, in a bookstore bubble with Anton. Because for the first time in five years, I feel like I know who I am. I’m a woman in love with a man who happens to be a prince and a pro-football player, and he loves me back.
27
A Girl to See About
Anton
Practice runs long on Tuesday, and I’m scurrying around the locker room after my shower, trying to get my life organized so I can get the heck out of there.
“Someone’s in a hurry.” TJ comes out of the shower with a towel tied low on his waist.
“Didn’t you hear?” Del pipes up from where he’s lacing his shoes. “Our boy has himself a hot date.”
TJ shoots me an affronted look. “Dude! When were you going to tell me?”
“I’m telling you right now.” I fumble with my cologne. I can’t get my finger to connect with the nozzle, and when it does, I accidentally spray myself much more directly than I intend. “Dang it.”
