Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,122
resistance is futile, and I’ve been trying my damnedest to prove that old adage false.
But as I watch him lather up in the shower, I’m hit with the truth. Resistance is futile, and tonight, there’s no way I can deny myself any longer.
Call it hormones, lust, craze, need—whatever you want. I crave him. And for the first time since he’s been back, he’s going to get his way. He’s finally going to take what he’s been wanting for weeks, even if he pretends not to for my sake.
No. He’s not going to take. The ball’s in my court, as it’s been since he reappeared in my life, and I’m the one who’s taking the reins.
I rake my eyes over the rippling, muscular planes of his chest and sigh in pleasure at the sight of his smooth, taut stomach, which I suddenly wish to run my tongue over. This is why I haven’t gone to the lake with him. Why I haven’t wanted to see him in all his shirtless glory.
For weeks, I had the crutch of doctor’s orders. No sex. But that time is up, and my lady parts know it.
Especially as my eyes rake over his nude body for the first time in nearly a year. God, how is it possible that he’s even more enticing than he was before? The delicious six-pack that has me wanting to recite the alphabet until my tongue is tracing over his spectacular V. The V that reminds me of a flashing neon ON sign directing me to my next favorite ride: his cock. Considering what that did to me last time, I should run away. Yet I find myself moving a step forward inside the bathroom instead.
And when turns the water off and Knox calls my name, I stop in my tracks. He’s watching me with an amused expression on his face.
“Need something?” he asks.
You.
I hate it. I hate the way I want him. Or more pointedly, I actually hate that I don’t hate it or him at all. The way I’ve done nothing but dream of him. The way I’m still so desperately in love with him, and the way I should so desperately stay away before he breaks my heart again.
But I can’t. I don’t want to. What I want is to trust him. Let him back in. Take the leap and deal with the consequences later on.
Because he’s done nothing but show me what type of man he is. What kind of father. All the walls of resistance I thought I’d built around my heart have crumbled with every diaper he’s changed. Every book he’s read to me while I’m breastfeeding. Every night he’s slept next to me while respecting my need for space. But most of all, it’s the moments he’s connected with his son. The expression of love I see every time he’s gazed down at Branson. And, if I’m honest, every time I’ve caught him looking at me.
He’s broken through my barriers and he doesn’t even know it.
That makes me love him more. When I meet his penetrating eyes, my chest tightens with yearning. I don’t want to push him away anymore.
“I need…” I whisper, trailing off because I don’t want to give this to him. Not yet.
“I know.”
And when I meet his gaze, he’s not lying. He knows. He’s always known.
That alone should frighten me. He knew before and he still left. I shake the thought out of my head. He may have suspected, but I never told him. He never asked. That was on both of us.
“Stop thinking,” he murmurs. “Come here.”
He crooks his finger at me, and without hesitation, my legs move of their own volition until his arm wraps around my waist and he’s dragging me into him, capturing my mouth, and ravishing it with his tongue. I don’t even care that he’s soaking my clothes.
I whimper as Knox tears his lips from mine. The devastating loss sends my arms around his neck as I try to draw him back in. He resists, and I could curse him for it.
His forehead brushes against mine, electric eyes searing into me. “Tell me what you want, Melia,” he growls.
“You.” I can’t lie to him any longer. Or myself. I thought I could resist. I should’ve known better.
“For how long?” His hands dig into the flesh of my ass when I hesitate.
“Always.”
He swallows my whisper with a passionate kiss that blasts heat sweeping through me like fire in dry grass.