My heart nearly bursts from my chest and floats to the ceiling when she ever so lightly, ever so slowly wraps her arms around my waist. I’m drifting and falling simultaneously, for the first time in my life understanding how happiness feels. I suddenly understand something with terrifying insight. Now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t live without it.
I want her. I want to take her right here in the kitchen, but this isn’t what the kiss is about. I need her to understand that more than I need to sate the demands of my body. Bringing the kiss to a slow halt, I pull away to look at her. Her lips are red and swollen. Confusion and uncertainty darken her eyes, but I’ll take that over the nothingness of earlier any time. I can work with confusion and uncertainty. I can kiss her until her head is too full of me to have space left for questions.
Blinking, she wipes a hand over her lips.
I give her a crooked smile. “I said, good morning.”
She clears her throat. “Hi.” The throat clearing doesn’t help. Her voice is still hoarse. “Thanks for the coffee.” She hooks a curl behind her ear. “And the note.” Stammering, she continues, “For fetching the car.”
“Your car,” I say gently.
“What?”
“Not the car. It was a gift. It’s yours.”
Biting her lip, she just looks at me.
I lift the hem of her skirt and tap two fingers on her thigh. “Open.”
The glow on her cheeks deepens as she obliges, spreading her legs a little. Tilting my head, I study the tat. She’s applied the ointment. Good. The sight of those letters sparks a dark satisfaction deep inside me.
I drop the hem. “Does it hurt?”
She shakes her head.
“It’s pretty,” I say.
An ire of old sparks in her eyes. “If you say so.”
That makes me smile. I’m deliriously happy to have my Violet back.
Pulling my shirt from my pants, I unbutton it.
Her eyes flare. “What are you doing?”
As enticing as sex in the kitchen will be, we have to leave soon. I peel off the shirt and lift my arm. Her eyes grow even rounder.
“Like it?” I ask.
Her gaze darts from the letters eternalized on my skin to my face and back to the letters. She doesn’t say anything, but the faintest of smiles plucks at her lips. It’s minute, like a flutter of a butterfly wing, but it’s there.
My own smile stretches into a grin as I pull my shirt back on.
“You’re crazy,” she says.
“But you like it,” I challenge.
She averts her gaze, preventing me from reading the truth in her eyes.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“What?”
She rolls her eyes before meeting my gaze again. “Yoghurt, berries, honey, and granola. If you prefer, I can keep a chart on the wall and catalogue my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That way, you don’t have to ask every time.”
Fuck, her sarcasm makes me hard. Gripping her chin, I say, “You do that.”
She pulls away with a scoff, defying me when she’s the one who suggested the idea. It’s a great idea. I want to make sure she eats well. Like everything that concerns her, her health is my priority.
It takes enormous willpower to step away from her, but if I don’t put space between us, we’re not going to make it to Damian’s house. Taking the bouquet of colorful summer flowers and the handmade chocolates from the table, I hand her the gifts.
“For me?” she asks, frowning as she accepts the offerings. “Why?”
“Because that’s what men do when they like a woman. They bring gifts.”