Page 75 of All Your Dreams

He steps away, swearing more under his breath. I watch him go down the hall, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to remember how to be a functional human being again. It's nearly impossible as my lips still tingle where his were.

Heather waits on the landing with Tilly balanced on her hip. Her gaze flicks between us and a knowing smile spreads across her face. “Sorry for the interruption, but someone got fussy downstairs and demanded her favorite people.”

Ollie clears his throat, clearly flustered. “Hey, Tills,” he greets her, taking the baby in his arms. “Thanks, Heather.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” she says, backing away.

She disappears down the stairs with suspicious speed. Ollie looks at Tilly, then back at me. His expression softens, but the heat in his eyes tells me we aren’t finished.

“I’ll get her to bed. Give me ten minutes.”

“Okay,” I manage.

He presses a quick kiss to my temple and heads toward the nursery. I slip into my bedroom and close the door softly behind me. I lean back against it and let out a shaky breath. My heart is pounding so hard it feels impossible that the whole building can't hear it.

We finally did it. No more stopping ourselves at the last second. And it turned out to be the best first kiss of my life. If that's what one moment with Ollie can do to me, I'm in serious trouble.

I sit on the edge of the bed and press my hands over my face. “Get it together,” I tell myself, but every inch of me is humming with the memory of him.

Falling back onto the mattress, I stare at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. My pulse still races, refusing to settle, my skin feeling too tight around my bones. As incredible as the kiss had been, what keeps replaying isn't the heat or the way my knees nearly gave out. It's the way he looked at me right before it happened. Like today wasn't simply about finally getting to kiss me, but about celebrating the fact that I'd escaped a situation that hurt me. I don't think I've ever been looked at with that much care before. Not by someone who isn’t family.

A soft knock sounds, taking me away from my thoughts. “Peyton? Can I come in?”

My throat goes dry, nervous yet excited for what’s coming next. “Please do,” I answer and sit up.

The door opens and he steps inside, closing it behind him with a click. For a long moment, neither of us says a word. We simply look at each other across the small space, the air between us charged all over again. Silence stretches, full of everything we didn’t get to finish earlier.

Ollie takes a few steps, stopping in front of me, and I stare up at his gorgeous face. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of him, making my pulse start to climb again.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispers.

“I need you to kiss me again...and again...and again.”

“Lucky for you, that can be arranged.”

His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together. His other hand cradles my face, his thumb sweeping along my jaw before he closes the distance. Our second kiss is slow, almost reverent. Like we're both savoring the moment we've wanted for far too long.

My free hand slides up his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss, unhurried but certain. He exhales against my mouth, a low sound that makes my knees unsteady again.

“This is…” I whisper when we break apart, words slipping away before I have a chance to say more.

He eases us both down until we’re lying against the pillows. There’s something almost shy about the way we move, both aware of how big this is. I curl into him, my head settling on his chest, one leg draped over his. My eyelids close as I breathe in the familiar scent of him. His heartbeat is slow and steady beneath my cheek, and I realize this is the safest I've felt in years.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask quietly after a while.

“Always.”

I trace circles over his covered chest. “I think today was the first time I stopped being angry.”

“At Nathan?”

“Mhm, I've been angry for months. Angry that he cheated. Angry that he made me doubt myself. Angry that he stole so much of my confidence.” I let out a slow breath. “But when I read those papers...I didn’t feel anger anymore.”

His hand brushes my side in silent encouragement. “What was it?”

“Relief and gratitude, which sounds wild, I know.”

“Gratitude?” he asks, his fingers pausing their movement.