I didn’t want to let this go, didn’t want to lose what we obviously had.
We knew essentially nothing about each other, but that didn’t matter. I knew in my heart what I wanted, what was right, and that was being with Oliver.
And he looked at me like he wanted me naked, like he wanted to devour me, tear into me until there was nothing left in the best of ways.
And God, did I want that, especially right now.
All I could think about was telling him all these things moving through my head, all the things I’d thought about for the past ninety days. He’d think I was crazy if I uttered love, that I felt like I’d fallen in love with him at first sight.
Each day, those feelings became stronger, harder to ignore.
“Come here, Adele,” he said again.
All I could focus on was the way his mouth moved as he said those three words. All I could think about was how electrifying his voice was as it moved over my body.
I licked my lips and moved that last bit of space it took to almost have our chests brushing together.
This is crazy.
This is so right.
It feels so good.
He reached out and cupped my waist with one hand and covered one side of my face with the other. The scent of him was intense, intoxicating. His short dark hair was disheveled, as if he’d been nervously running his fingers through it all night. But I knew I was the reason those strands were a wild mess.
I’d been the one running my hands through them as we kissed in the cab, as I clutched him to me so strongly I felt like we were one.
And the scent of him, good God, the scent of him, that mixture of cologne and masculinity, absolutely drove me insane with lust.
He held my cheek in a gentle, almost tentative hold with his other hand, as if he were afraid I’d bolt if he added too much pressure. But I had no intentions of doing that, not when I felt this light move through me when he touched me.
“Adele,” he half-whispered, half-groaned. The sound went through my entire body like flames licking over me. “If I told you how I felt, you’d run away. You’d be so damn afraid you’d never want to see me again.”
I heard the fear in his voice and shook my head, knowing it would probably be the opposite. “Tell me,” I all but begged and pleaded.
/> He was silent, still for so long I wondered if he even breathed. I wanted to tell him what I felt, how he made me feel. But I was afraid. I bit my tongue, the pain a realization that saying too much might scare him away. I’d let him take the forefront in this moment. I’d give him the lead.
“I’m so damn afraid to say it,” he whispered again and lowered his gaze to my lips. “I’m so damn afraid of losing you again.” That last part sounded like it was meant for himself.
I shook my head and cupped his scruff-covered cheeks, forcing his head up so he could look into my eyes. “Tell me,” I pleaded softly.
He paused a moment as if debating whether to say what he wanted, as if fighting with himself.
Say it, Oliver. Please, say it.
“I love you,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
I swallowed, my heart beating hard and almost painfully in my chest. Oh my God. I’d been wanting to hear those words from him.
I wanted to say them myself.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
He looked stunned, then brushed the pad of his thumb along my cheek.
Back and forth, back and forth. All Oliver did was look into my eyes, almost disbelief in his expression. God, his eyes were so blue, so clear. I felt myself falling into them, getting lost in the color, in the deepness of them. I felt myself leaning forward, felt his warm breath brush along my lips.
I didn’t want to stop this. I wouldn’t.