“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
Wes pulls me closer, a hand splayed on my back, kissing the top of my head in a pacifying way I’ve seen him do to Imogene countless times.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, running his fingers up and down my spine. “You’re okay. I got you.”
“I hate them. I hate them. I hate them,” I repeat, clutching onto his t-shirt with my fists as I remain in his embrace, doing my best to get my emotions under control.
Wes doesn’t react, just continues to hold me, keeping me safe in his arms. And that’s the thing. I actually feel safe. I do every time I’m with him.
“Better?” Wes asks when I stop trembling, my breaths slowing.
I nod against his chest, inhaling deeply, his familiar woodsy scent wrapping around me. “Better.”
“Good.” He pulls back slightly, but doesn’t drop his hold on me, keeping me in his arms.
My pulse kicks up when he pushes a few curls away from my face, his thumb skating across my skin. A shiver trickles through me, and not from the breeze wrapping around us or my lingering fear. From the way he peers at me. So much heat. So much want. So much hunger. It has my stomach doing backflips.
“Londyn…” His voice is deep, husky, guttural.
“Yes…”
“Londyn…,” he repeats, clutching my cheeks in his strong hands.
“Yes.” My eyes flutter closed as he pulls my lips toward his.
But he doesn’t kiss me. Just stays in this magical place where dreams are made and hope lives. This place where two souls are about to feel each other for the first time. This place that’s home to so much anticipation and promise.
When I don’t retreat or push him away, he moves a hand to the small of my back, yanking me against him. And then it happens. What I’ve fantasized about more times than I care to admit. He erases the last bit of space between us, his lips soft and sweet as he tests the waters. Relishing in this first touch, a tingle spreads over me, heating me from the inside out.
Does he understand the magnitude of this moment, too? Is that why he’s taking his time, not rushing through this to get to the good stuff? Because in my mind, it’s all good stuff with him, even this barely-there meeting of our mouths.
His self-control doesn’t last too long, though. Before I have a chance to catch a breath, he deepens the exchange, his kiss bruising and greedy, leaving me thoughtless. Mindless. Defenseless. But in the best way possible.
Digging his fingers into my scalp, his other hand guides me backward, tightening when my back comes into contact with the wall. He circles his hips, the feel of his erection against me causing my craving to ratchet up another level. I hook a leg around his waist, desire pooling between my thighs at the feel of him. God, it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this, so needy and free.
He briefly pulls back, eyes locking with mine. “God, you taste better than I imagined. And I’ve certainly imagined.”
Before I can speak, he dives in for another impassioned kiss, this one even more hungry. I curve into him, succumbing to him. It’s been years since I’ve allowed a man to kiss me like this, hating how vulnerable a kiss could make me. How many lies can be masked in one gesture. But I don’t feel any of that with Wes. All I feel is his respect. His admiration. His undeniable passion for me. Passion I’ve denied for weeks. Passion I don’t want to deny any longer. Passion I deserve.
I run my hands down his back, lifting his shirt and digging my nails into his flesh. As I continue my exploration of his body, my touch confirms what I’d imagined the countless times I mentally undressed him. Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Chiseled abs.
He breaks away from my lips, both of us panting. Then he buries his head in the crook of my neck.
When he scrapes his teeth against my flesh, I throw my head back on a moan, my veins on fire from his scintillating touch. My chest heaves. My heart races. My soul sings. All from this unassuming man’s touch.
He pushes one of the thin straps of my sundress off my shoulder, kissing the exposed skin. “Is this okay?” He floats his gaze to mine.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He smiles slyly before pushing the top of my dress farther down, exposing more of my cleavage. He trails