Page 63 of Worth the Fall

“Yes.”

A few seconds pass as he gauges whether I’m serious, and I wonder if he’s going to take the bait. “And then what?” He angles his head to the side, silently asking a million questions my body wants to ignore.

“And then curiosity will be satisfied, and we’ll be out of each other’s systems.”

“You think that’s going to work? You think we’ve just met again after twenty years and it’ll be that easy?”

He has a point, and I don’t want to think about that or semantics or reality. I want to think about him. And me. And his mouth. And his hands.

So, I lean forward on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. “Enough talking, Malone.”

He laughs, his lips vibrating against mine, but I don’t relent. I want him. I want this. I know we’re both buzzed, but maybe that’s the best way for this to happen so I’m not nervous and overthinking and neither is he.

For a minute, I think he’s going to reject me. It’s in the way he stills for a brief moment, the way his lashes lower for just a second too long. Then he frames my face and leans back to look at me. Our breaths feather over each other’s lips as an unspoken conversation passes between us. I can’t put words to it, but somehow understand each and every syllable of it.

And then his mouth is on mine in a savage greeting of lips and tongues and hands on skin and history reconnected.

“Grant.”

“Shh.”

“Wait. I have rules.”

He laughs with exasperation, a man being denied what’s sitting at his fingertips. “Of course you do.”

“No sleeping over. I don’t do the sleeping together thing.”

“No one said anything about sleeping, Em.”

His smile sidelines me. The kiss he leans forward and brushes ever so tenderly against my lips makes me want to sag into him, even more so.

“No promises.”

“I thought this was a one-night thing, right?”

“Yes, but no promises.”

“I’m going to make you come. Can I promise you that?”

Another kiss. This time I take the lead and lick my tongue against his until I pull back and nip his lip. “I’ll accept that promise.”

“Good. Can we stop talking now because there are much more important things I want to be doing with my mouth, and every single one of them involves you and no words.”

My teeth sink into my lower lip as our eyes meet. The door unlocks behind us. Our feet move in reflex. Our fingers link together.

Once over the threshold, we kiss again—his lips beginning their masterful assault of everything that is good and sexy and arousing and needed.

“God, yes.”

His lips find my neck as my hand finds the door to push it shut behind me. As soon as the lever clicks, Grant has me up against it with one hand on my breast and his tongue licking its way up the line of my neck.

He laughs as he stumbles. I giggle as I grip his shoulders to steady us. But even when I do, the earth is still tilting beneath my feet from his desirous assault. Every sensation is welcome and wanted. Each touch of his another reason to temporarily ignore my history.

But he doesn’t.

For some reason, the minute the thought crosses my mind, I can feel the sudden hesitancy in Grant’s otherwise all-consuming and libidinous demeanor and know we are on the same page.

He is remembering.