“What if I was wrong?” A stripped-down vulnerability I’ve never glimpsed before lurks in the back of his eyes. “About everything.”
Why is he doing this?
Why won’t he allow me to walk away?
“I don’t understand.” Where is this coming from? More than anything, I hate that he has the ability to draw me back in again.
“If I were the guy you first met,” he slides along the edge of the tub, “could you fall in love with me?”
My mouth tumbles open as his words send my belly into free fall. How am I supposed to answer that?
“Summer?”
Without considering the consequences, I jerk my head into a nod.
He continues to scoot toward me before dropping to his knees on the other side of the porcelain. Both of his hands slide through my wet hair, holding my head in place before carefully searching my eyes. He tips my face until his warm breath can drift over my lips. My chest expands for the first time in more than a week as I breathe him in.
What is it about him that feels so right?
“Are you sure?” His expression turns serious. As if whatever I say next will somehow seal my fate.
When I open my mouth, he cuts me off. “Don’t give me an answer yet. You need to think about it.” His tongue darts out to stroke over my lips and I groan at the contact as my muscles lose their rigidity.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed touching you?” he growls. “It’s been fucking torture.”
As much as I’ve tried to pretend otherwise, I feel the same way. Logically, it doesn’t make sense. I’ve stopped trying to rationalize it in my head. For whatever reason, his touch feels more natural than anything else in my life.
“Give me your tongue,” he demands.
It doesn’t occur to me to hold back. As soon as my tongue peeks through my lips, he licks it with the velvety softness of his own before drawing it deep into his mouth. Arousal shoots through my core, throbbing to life with a swiftness that almost takes my breath away.
His fingers splay wide as he holds me in place, sucking on me the entire time. Everything he does is so erotic. Even something as simple as this. When he releases me, it’s as if I’ve been drugged. No longer am I able to think, all I want are his hands roaming over my body, branding me in a way he has yet to do.
“Think carefully about what I’ve said.” He presses another kiss against my lips. “I need an answer by the end of the evening.”
With a groan, his mouth aligns with mine one last time before he rises to his feet. I don’t realize that my body has unfurled from its huddled state until his gaze skims over my naked form and he plows a hand roughly through his hair. Heat ignites in his eyes as they become dark liquid pools that have the power to singe me alive.
“Tonight,” he repeats harshly.
I bite my lip as the sexual haze clouding my brain clears. As he crosses over the threshold into my bedroom, I blurt, “Kingsley?”
He swings around. “Yeah?”
“Tell me this isn’t a game.” I watch for any telltale signs that he’s lying to me. A shuttering of his eyes. A blanking of his expression.
Instead, regret flashes across his face as he stalks into the bathroom, swallowing up the distance between us in four long strides. When he reaches the tub, he falls to his knees and his hands snake out to cup my cheeks. “This isn’t a game. What’s happening between us is all too real.”
“Do you swear it?” I search his eyes, attempting to sift through every nuance that flickers in them.
“On my life.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip before chewing it. “Okay.” So badly do I want to believe he’s telling me the truth, but the sad reality is that he’s never given me one reason to trust him.
His tongue sweeps over my lower lip and when I release it from being pinned in place, he draws it into his mouth before relinquishing it. “You’ll have an answer for me tonight?”
I nod as he rises to his feet. If pressed hard enough, I would give him the answer he’s looking for right now. But he doesn’t, so I keep my lips tightly pressed together. For whatever reason, it feels as though I should give as much consideration to his question as he has instructed me to.
“Then I’ll see you tonight.” With that, he disappears from the bathroom. When I hear the screen door slam shut in my bedroom, I know he’s gone. My head falls back against the tub as I stare sightlessly at the ceiling.
As confused as I am, there are truths that can not be denied. The way I feel about him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And something tells me that I never will again.