Page 87 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

So yeah, my view on love and healthy relationships was skewed, but so was Neco’s, and right now we were desperately trying to figure it out.

One thing I knew for sure, though—I wanted to be his. I was his. But I wanted him to be mine as well, all of him, and right now he was holding back from me. He’d buried himself under a pile of fear and anger. Had used control to lock those feelings down deep so he didn’t have to deal with them.

Somehow, I had to get through to him.

When I got home, I ordered dinner, and was dishing up Chinese takeout when Neco finally walked in the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He dumped his keys on the coffee table and came straight to me, pulling me into his arms. “You have a good day?”

Fighting down the guilt, I smiled up at him. “Yeah.” He bent his head and kissed me, hard and deep, then lifted his head. “I gotta go back out later, but I’ve got time to have dinner with my girl first.”

“Good, I got plenty.”

We sat on the couch and made short work of dinner, making small talk. It was obvious neither one of us wanted to fight, and I was more than good with that. We needed to reconnect, spend time together as a couple. God, the sooner this whole mess was over with, the better.

I cleared the containers away and dumped them in the trash. “You want a drink?” I called, glancing back at Neco.

He shook his head, stretching out on the couch, then crooked a finger at me. “Come here.”

My belly whooshed and my knees felt a little weak as I walked over and joined him on the couch.

He immediately dragged me over him. One of his knees was bent, resting against the back of the couch, the other down, foot on the floor. I was resting between his spread thighs, our bellies and chests plastered together. My nipples started tingling, and so did farther south.

He slid his fingers into my hair, eyes locked on mine. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered.

His lips curved up on one side. “You wanna make out?”

“Yes,” I said instantly.

He chuckled. “You going to let me cop a feel?”

I gave him a coy look. “Over the bra or under?”

“Under,” he said voice getting deeper, rougher.

“Okay. But I’m a good girl, so we need to take it slow.”

He groaned. He was fully hard now, pressed against my pubic bone. But the way we were lying, keeping my legs firmly pressed together, was pure torture.

“Will you let me put my hand down your pants?” he rasped.

“Over the panties or under?” I said, hearing the needy rasp in my own voice.

His eyes were the color of jade now, dark but bright, mesmerizing. “Under.”

My breathing was a little choppy and I squirmed, squeezing my legs together tighter. We both groaned. “Okay, but you need to tell me you love me first.”

“I love you,” he said in a rough whisper. “So fucking much.”

My heart started pounding in my chest. “I love you, too.”

“Kiss me,” he said.

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I pressed my mouth to his, a soft moan escaping when he tilted his head and spiked his tongue past my lips, kissing me hard and deep. My toes curled.