Chapter 27 Sarah
SARAH
Itook a step back, breathing heavily like I’d just speed-walked three blocks while late for a meeting I didn’t want to attend. That was not supposed to happen. That was not on the agenda. There had been no warning.
I flicked a finger at him. “I knew it. You’ve got superpowers.”
He threw his head back and laughed, a full, unguarded laugh that rumbled out of him like it surprised even him. It did something to my chest and my knees and several other places I wasn’t emotionally prepared to inventory.
“No normal man kisses like that,” I went on because apparently my mouth had decided we were doing this now. “That was illegal in at least three states. Possibly a federal offense.”
He watched me, his eyes heavy-lidded, dark and intent, like he was enjoying every second of my unraveling. It was doing unspeakable things to my lady V, who had apparently defected and joined his side.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.
“What question?” I asked innocently. I absolutely knew what question. But if I was going to spiral, I was going to do it with flair.
He stepped closer, slowly and deliberately, like he knew exactly what that did to me. Damn those superpowers. “Do you want me to stay,” he said quietly. “With you.”
My brain short-circuited. So I did the only reasonable thing. I pretended to think about it.
“That depends,” I said, tapping my chin like I was weighing mortgage rates.
His mouth twitched. “On what.”
“On whether this is a limited-time offer,” I said. “Because I don’t do well with bait-and-switch men. Or men who vanish. Or men who kiss like that and then pretend they didn’t just rearrange my internal organs.”
He smiled, slow and dangerous. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Also,” I added quickly, “you snore?”
“I don’t.”
“Everyone says that.”
He leaned in a fraction. “Lightly.”
“Deal-breaker question number two,” I said. “Do you touch the thermostat.”
“I respect the thermostat.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s very attractive.”
He laughed again, softer this time, and something in my chest eased. The tension from before had disappeared, melted into something warm and exciting.
I dropped my hands to my sides, suddenly aware of how close he was. “Okay,” I said, my voice quieter now, more honest. “Yes. I want you to stay.” There. I said it.
His expression changed, shifted like something had locked into place. “Good.”
We stared at each other for a second too long, the kind where your brain starts shouting, Say something normal, and your mouth just… doesn’t.
“I can’t lose you, New York,” said Dust-guy quietly. “I can’t lose you, Sarah.” His voice dropped into that honest register that felt unfairly effective. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
Oh. Great. My heart immediately began doing unsafe parkour.
I tilted my head, aiming for playful instead of emotionally compromised. “Well, yeah,” I said. “I am a delight.”
He smiled like he knew exactly what I was doing and was letting me have it.
Then he stepped closer. One second he was standing there, and the next his hand was warm against my cheek, steady and careful, like he was afraid I might disappear if he moved too fast. His eyes searched mine, serious in a way that made my stomach flip.
And then he kissed me again, his lips on mine, slow and confident, like he had been thinking about this just as much as I had.
I made a small noise. I would not be examining that noise further.
The kiss deepened, unhurried but sure, and I forgot about inn schedules, dignity, and the concept of time. His hand slid to my waist, grounding me, and suddenly I was very aware of how close he was. Of everything.
My hands found his back, warm skin under my palms, and I breathed, “Superpowers,” right into his mouth before my brain could veto it.
That earned me a low growl from him that absolutely did not help my ability to think straight.
I pulled away. “For the record, this counts as a grand opening. A celebration.”
Dust-guy leaned forward, his breath warm against my cheek. “You mean celebrating… like this?” he said and dipped his head to kiss me.
Even though this wasn’t the first time we’d kissed, the taste of him still had me growling like an animal.
His kiss wasn’t gentle. It was fierce and possessive, and I melted into it.
His tongue brushed mine, eager and hot, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, again and again.
Then I kissed his neck, nibbled his ear, and bit it.
He groaned, which set my core on fire.
“How much celebrating are we talking about?” he asked as he pulled away and started to unbutton his shirt, his pants, until he stood there in only a pair of black boxer briefs.
My brain nearly short-circuited at the sight.
First, well, because I hadn’t planned on coming here for a little horizontal tango action.
Second, because he was hotter with his clothes off, which seemed excessive.
He had abs—too many to count responsibly—perfect pecs and thighs that definitely did not belong to a man who ate normal food.
Holy guacamole. This man was hot!
Grinning like an idiot, I pulled off my coat and tossed it to the floor. “I’m thinking…” I said as I removed my shirt and tugged out of my jeans. “The kind that lasts all night long.” I stepped out of my jeans. “And repeats… over and over again. Think you can handle that, Alex?”
I removed my bra, wiggled out of my underwear, and just stood there, bold in my own nakedness.
Yet, somehow, I wasn’t embarrassed. Yes, my ex had called me fat, and that did hurt my self-esteem, not going to lie.
But when my eyes grazed down at his hard and extremely obvious desire for me.
Let me tell ya, nothing boosts the ego faster than that.
To hell with my cellulite. Curse my jiggly arms. Forget my very average breasts and the fact that I forgot to shave my legs.
Because he liked what he saw. Yay!
That’s it. I was going to go all primeval on his ass.
Alex’s eyes flashed with evident lust. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Blast off!
I tackled him like a pro wrestler with poor impulse control, and we collapsed onto the rug laughing, naked limbs tangled.
Alex grabbed me and pulled me beneath him.
The feeling of his weight on top of me, the weight of a man, triggered something feral in me, and I pressed tighter to him.
His rough, callused hands slid over my body, caressing me and sending shivers through me.
I’d felt so empty for so long, and now I wanted to be full of him.
I ran my hands over the cords of muscles on his back, pulling him to me.
And just like that, every lingering insecurity packed up and left town.
What followed was a blur of closeness and laughter mixed with heat, of kisses that made my toes curl and moments where I forgot how words worked entirely. He knew exactly what he was doing, and worse… he seemed very pleased about it.
I clung to him, kissed him, and pulled him closer, determined to stay right where I was. Wherever this was. With him.
And when we finally moved together, completely and without hesitation, I let myself stop overthinking and simply feel. Which, it turned out, was very much my new favorite thing.
Okay. Now I was ready to celebrate. Fully. Enthusiastically. With a man I cared about who thought I was hot.
And for the first time ever, I didn’t want the lights off.
I wanted them on. All of them.