“But I miss it. I miss it so goddamn much.” He says it in a whisper, barely loud enough for me to hear.
The devastation on Jeremy’s face for the loss of not just a sport, I realize, but the first real family he ever had, has me moving without thinking. Rising up on my knees, I lean forward and wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. It’s the second hug I’ve given him in as many days, and he reacts the same way. He tugs me closer and circles his arms around my waist, leaning his head against mine. It’s friendship andI’m here for youandyou’re not alone. It’s all those things.
And then, it’s more.
Jeremy’s exhale ghosts over my ear, sending chills down my back. It’s part nerves and part arousal at my sudden, sharp awareness of just how close we are, pressed together like this, arms around each other. What was a hug of comfort is suddenly the opposite of that as Jeremy’s fingertips glide along my lower back, brushing the skin where my sweater is riding up. He’s barely even touched me, but my skin burns with heat along the path of his hands.
Then, without warning, he pulls back, one of his hands coming up to push a piece of hair that came loose from my ponytail behind my ear. He trails the backs of his fingers along my jaw before cupping my cheek. His eyes are dark and penetrating, with a vulnerability in them that I’ve seen before. The uncertainty every time he lets a small part of him free. Like he’s showing me his broken parts and asking me to be gentle with them.
I bring my hand up to his cheek, stroking my thumb along his cheekbone, keeping my eyes on his.
“Tell me something true, Jeremy.”
He leans into my hand, closing his eyes for just a second. When he opens them, where there was uncertainty is now determination.
“I want to kiss you, Ems.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jeremy
My words hang between us.
Words I’ve said to Emma in my head a million times and a hundred ways between then and now but never thought I would say out loud. Words that could change this easy rhythm we’ve found between us, and I don’t know if it would be for better or worse. Words I was warring with myself over, but somehow, she understood. Somehow, she sees me. All of me. Even the parts of me that I keep hidden from everyone else.
Either way, the words are out there now and thank fuck because if I don’t get my lips on hers, I might just die from the wanting. I might not deserve her, but god, do I want her. I want all of her. I want her mind and her body and her calm and her heart and the way she knows me, and I want my hands on every single curvy inch of her with absolutely no barriers between us.
Time stands still.
And then?—
“Please.”
Emma’s single word, spoken less like a plea and more a command.
Cupping Emma’s face in my hands, I lower my mouth to hers. One single touch of our lips is all it takes. My entire world tilts on its axis. I know without consciously knowing that this moment right here is the line that divides my life into what it was and what it could be, if only I can find a way to be brave enough to grab it.
Emma lets out a little sigh and the sound is gasoline poured into my veins.
“Fuck, Ems,” I mutter, capturing her lips with mine again.
One touch of my tongue to her lips and she opens for me like she’s been waiting for this forever. My tongue strokes against hers, and she tastes like chocolate and cereal and everything good. When Emma tangles her hands in my hair, tugging just enough for the slight sting to shoot straight to my dick, I slide my hands around her neck, tilting her head back to take the kiss deeper.
There is no deep that would be deep enough. Not now. Not with Emma. Kissing her feels like salvation. Like she sees the heavy weight I carry and wants to help bear the burden. It’s intense and powerful, and it scares the shit out of me but also doesn’t because this is Emma and me. It’s been eight years since the last time I kissed her, but the feeling is the same. Part of me knew then and all of me knows now.
We are inevitable.
It’s the thought that drove me out of her bedroom eight years ago and it’s the thought that has my hands shaking even as I kiss her harder. Deeper. With every single part of me.
Heat licks up my spine as our mouths move together, and I wonder briefly if Emma can feel how this kiss is affecting me, how desperately I want her, and then I know she can because she shifts forward, knees parting just enough to straddle my lap, never breaking the kiss. One roll of her hips against mine andher gasp into my mouth and I’m riding the edge so fast I’m lightheaded.
I want her with a ferocity that feels primal, embedded in the deepest, darkest depths of my soul. It’s that want that has me breaking our kiss, tearing our mouths apart and laying my forehead on hers. Our chests rise and fall in sync, hearts beating out the same staccato rhythm.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
