of my Friday afternoon and evening catching up as best I could on emails and tasks before I let myself call it for the night.
Gemma was already long gone, home with Zach after I assured her I was fine and she should enjoy her weekend. She didn’t like leaving me to my own devices in the office, mostly because she knew I could stay here all night. I promised her I’d pack it in before sunset, and as golden hour lit up my office, I sighed, shutting down my computer and logging off.
You better be leaving the office, Gemma’s text said.
I shot back a video of me locking up the office door.
Everything about me was dragging as I slugged into the elevator. I didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes were weary, my shoulders slumped, my hair a disaster. I’d be shocked if my makeup had made it through the hellish day, but didn’t care enough to check my reflection. All I wanted right now was a glass of red wine, my leftover pad Thai, and my bed.
The yawn I’d been fighting for the past hour stretched my jaw when I pushed through the glass doors of the office building and out onto the street. I covered it with my hand, closing my eyes and shaking it off as best I could to prep for the walk home.
But when I opened my eyes, all the fatigue left me in a whoosh at the sight of Makoa.
He was leaned up against a sleek black car, dressed casual in a pair of joggers and a muscle T that hugged his biceps and made it easy to see the definition of his abs underneath. There was an obnoxiously giant bouquet of flowers in his hands, a beautiful fall arrangement that I absentmindedly thought would look perfect as the centerpiece of his new dining table. His wide, goofy grin was at a new high, stretched across his face with his eyes dazzling in the last of the sun’s warm glow.
He was back.
He was home.
“You catch any flies with that yawn?” He chuckled, pushing off where he was leaned up against the car and crossing the few feet between us.
“You’re here,” I said, shaking my head as he handed me the flowers. I inhaled them deep, but didn’t admire them nearly as long as I should have before I almost dropped them to the ground when I threw my arms around Makoa’s neck.
“I’m here, Ku’uipo,” he whispered, holding me tight and kissing my forehead.
Cue butterflies.
I pressed up on my toes, sealing my mouth to his in our first kiss in nearly three weeks. We both inhaled at the contact, his grip tightening, my head fuzzy with the current of electricity that soared at the touch. I couldn’t get close enough to him, no matter how tightly I held or how much I pressed myself into his grasp. My mouth opened, letting his tongue sweep inside, and we moaned in sync.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned, nipping at my bottom lip.
“I think you should show me how much.”
Makoa growled, smacking my ass before he put a little space between us. He grabbed my hand, pulling me over to the car and opening the back door.
My purse and the flowers were both abandoned in the seat as soon as Makoa climbed in on the other side, and I didn’t care about the driver when I heaved myself over to straddle him. He laughed into my next kiss, hands on my hips to keep me from grinding the way I wanted to.
“Woman,” he warned, a snap of his fingers to the driver the only indication he could give that we were ready to go before my lips were on his again.
The car accelerated, and Makoa allowed me one little roll of friction to feel his erection against me before he picked me up at the hips and moved me to the middle seat next to him. He kissed me to cut off my protest, buckling me in at the same time.
“Safety first, you little siren,” he said.
I tried to pout but couldn’t stop smiling.
He’s here.
He’s home.
One arm found its way around my shoulders, the other slid between my knees to hold onto my thigh possessively as Makoa took my breath away with another kiss. This one held promises of what would happen when we made it to his place, and I leaned into it, stomach tight with anticipation of what that hand on my thigh would do