In the Likely Event(56)



“Movie,” I reminded her—reminded myself.

“Right.” She drew her tongue across her bottom lip, and I bit back a groan. “Prepare for greatness,” she said and led me to the couch. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I savored the absolute peace.

I hadn’t ruined everything by keeping her out.

Two hours later, she looked up at me with expectation as the credits rolled. “What did you think?”

“I think it’s bullshit that they only got to see each other at dawn and sunset.” I glared at the screen.

“They win in the end,” she replied with a laugh, tucking one leg under her and turning to face me on the couch, her knee brushing my thigh.

“Doesn’t mean the years they spent like that weren’t bullshit.” I shook my head.

“Aw, Nate.” She grinned, taking my face in her hands and pulling my attention from the credits. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

I scoffed. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, Isabeau. Being romantic isn’t one of them.” There were only two people in the world I even remotely softened for. She just happened to be one of them.

Her gazed dropped to my mouth, and I fisted the cushion by her side to keep my hands from reaching for her. “You know what I’ve decided?”

“What?” My palms itched to feel the curves of her body.

She leaned into my space until her lips were only a matter of inches from mine.

Fuck, I was going to break. I could already taste her, already hear the little gasps she made between kisses. The memory of her had been my constant companion these last nine months.

“Fiji,” she whispered against my lips.

“I’m sorry?” The blood had definitely fled my brain.

“Fiji.” Her smile was contagious as she swung one knee over and settled into my lap, straddling me. “That’s where we should go for vacation. It’s warm. It has sandy beaches. It’s remote, so you won’t worry about crowds.”

“I like beaches.” The last time I’d been on one had been with her. My hands rose to her hips as arousal hummed through me.

“Good. Then Fiji it is.” She ran her fingers through my hair, and I leaned into her touch. Her lips ghosted across mine. “You can kiss me in the water.”

Yep. I was done for. The strands of my good intentions were unraveling by the second. It was all I could do to keep from flipping her back to the couch.

“Nate?” Her lips blatantly teased mine.

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

They were the same words I’d said to her back in Georgia, but fuck me if they didn’t sound a million times sexier coming out of her mouth.

I kissed her first and groaned when she opened for me. She was so damned sweet, her tongue rubbing against mine as I relearned every line of her mouth. Kissing her was just as explosive as I remembered, and a thousand times more addictive.

My fingers speared through her hair as I tilted our heads for the perfect angle, the kiss spinning out of control. Her breasts pressed against my chest. Her hips rocked over mine. Her breath became my own. This was exactly where I belonged, wherever she was.

The connection between us was as undefinable as it was undeniable.

“I’d almost forgotten how good at this we are,” she said between kisses.

“I thought about it every single day.” I angled her hips and rolled mine so she could feel exactly what I was thinking right now.

“I missed you.” She kissed my jaw, my neck, as her hands swept down my arms, then my torso. “And I know I shouldn’t have. That it’s completely illogical—”

I fisted my hand in her hair and brought her mouth back to mine, using my lips and tongue to tell her that I felt the exact same way. My fingers drifted from her hip to the small of her back, slipping under her shirt to stroke the hollow of her spine.

She gasped at the light touch, and I swallowed the sound.

“I bet you’re sensitive like this everywhere, aren’t you?” I asked, trailing my fingers up and down the smooth skin of her back.

“Why don’t you find out?” Her hands worked at her waist and her blouse fell open to the sides, revealing a pale-blue lace bra that cupped her breasts with an expertise that made my mouth water.

“Fuck.” The word escaped as a guttural groan. “You are so goddamn perfect, Isabeau.”

“Touch me.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. My hands stroked up her sides, caressing the dip of her waist, and then up and over her ribs before cupping her breasts over the lace. She was more than enough to fill my hands. “See? Perfect.”

She laughed, then kissed me, and I lost myself—and every good intention I’d had—in the taste of her mouth, the sound of her little moans, the feel of her nipples hardening beneath the fabric under the stroke of my thumbs.

I licked and sucked a path down her throat and across her collarbone, then grasped her ass with one hand and lifted her slightly so my teeth could test the buds of her nipples. The lace was too thick for what I needed, what I craved. I tugged one cup down and savored the sound of her soft cry as I sucked the peak into my mouth.

“Nate!” Her fingernails bit into my shoulders.

My dick strained at my zipper, but I was thankful for the barrier. It kept me in check as I moved to the other breast, exposing it so I could give it the same treatment. “So sensitive,” I said against her skin as she shuddered.

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