take in his appearance. He ditched the jeans and Henley for a white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms that fall sinfully from his hips, his feet bare.
“Londyn,” he breathes, pulling my attention back to him. “Are you okay?” Concern oozes from his voice as he steps forward, eyes skating over me.
“Yes. No. I…” Pausing, I lick my lips, smiling nervously. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” He moves aside, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him.
I continue into his mostly dark house, the only light coming from over the sink in the kitchen and the flames flickering in the gas fireplace in the living room.
“Would you like to sit down?” Wes gestures to the couch.
I shake my head. “I think I need to stand for this.”
He stops as he’s about to sit, straightening himself. “Okay.” Widening his stance, his intense stare bores into me as he waits.
I can’t imagine what must be going through his mind right now. What’s so important that I drove over here to talk to him instead of just waiting until tomorrow? But this couldn’t wait. He’s waited long enough for me to realize what’s been so obvious from the beginning, if I’d just opened my damn eyes. Now they’re wide open. And I don’t ever want to close them again.
“The thing is, Wes…” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to make sense out of my jumbled thoughts, everything fighting for attention. I want to say so many things, tell him everything I’ve kept from him for months. “When you introduced me as your interior designer earlier, it hurt.”
His steps eat up the distance between us, eyes narrowed on me in apology. “I’m sorry, Londyn. I know I—”
“Please.” I hold up my hand, cutting him off and stopping him from getting any closer. It’s difficult enough to form a coherent thought as it is. “I need to get this out.”
He blinks, then nods, giving me some space. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath as I pace in front of him. “I understand why you did that. After all, I’m the one who’s constantly insisted we keep our relationship strictly professional. Nothing more.” I come to a stop, lifting my eyes to meet his, my pulse racing. “But I think we both know that’s not true. You’ve never just been my client, have you?”
“I don’t want to be,” he answers softly, his tone even. “But I also promised I wouldn’t wait for you. That I’d live my life, and you’d live yours.”
“That you did.” I step toward him. “But we both know you broke that promise.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s just a feeling. Something tells me this was all part of your plan. That you pretty much tricked me into dating you without realizing it.”
“And what would you say if I did?” He holds his breath, as if my next statement will decide his fate. In a way, I suppose it does.
I take another step toward him, only a whisper between our bodies. My heart pounds violently, my stomach in knots.
“I’d thank you for making me realize I can have it all. The truth is, I don’t want to be just your interior designer. But I don’t want to be just your friend, either.”
His jaw tightens, shoulders rising and falling with his increasingly unsteady breaths. I notice his fingers flinch, wanting to reach out and touch me. But he doesn’t, the heat of him so close driving me to the edge of reason.
“What do you want, Londyn?”
“You, Wes,” I admit with a quiver. “I want you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Nothing less,” he repeats as he closes his eyes, pushing out a relieved breath.
When he returns his gaze to mine, it’s fiery, yet ardent at the same time. He gradually lifts his hands toward me, giving me a chance to change my mind, to back out. But I’m done running from him. From love. I want to embrace everything he is and never look back.
Our chests heave in unison as he clutches my cheeks, a spark shooting through me.
“Is this okay?” he whispers huskily, just like he did when we first kissed.
And just like that night, I answer, “Yes.”
His mouth inches closer, my insides tightening, my veins on fire with anticipation.
“Is this okay?” he asks again.
“Yes.”
“And this?” His lips scrape delicately with mine, the barely-there touch making me thirsty for more.
“God, yes,” I moan.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He moves one hand to my waist, tugging me against him. Our kiss is tender at first