The sound she makes is obvious. She doesn’t believe me when I say it’s been a while.
I need her to believe me.
“It’s different from hooking up just for fun. I’m not gonna lie to you, I’ve been with plenty of women since you left. But that’s all it’s been. Mutual release, or whatever you want to call it. But being with someone I care about? Someone that I actually feel something with? That’s a different story.”
“How long has it been since you’ve had that?”
Once again, I pause to think about my answer. The truth is obviously what I need to share. But fuck me, if she doesn’t believe what I say? I don’t know how to come back from that. I do some quick math in my head before replying.
“Eight years, three months and four days. Five if you don’t count the way I woke you up the morning you left.”
Her sharp intake of breath has me holding my own. Clenching my jaw, desperate for her to say something. Anything.
But she doesn’t. Instead, the only girl I’ve ever loved leans in and kisses me for the second time in eight years, three months and four days.
I can’t hold back my groan as my fingers slide through her hair, gripping her tightly, pressing her into me. Fuck. I’ve died and gone to heaven. Her tongue searches for mine, and I open eagerly. No part of me is closed off to this woman except my heart.
I’m not fool enough to risk that again.
But my body? It’s hers for the taking.
She whimpers when I tug her lower lip between my teeth, and I move one arm to band around her waist, then shift us until I’m lying on the couch and she’s over top of me. Her hair falls around us, and I press lightly on her back, encouraging her to rest her weight on me.
She lowers herself down until her hips are resting on top of mine. The cute little gasp she makes when she feels my already hard cock press into her makes me smirk.
But I’ll settle for more kissing. For now.
Making out with Isabelle Murphy isn’t exactly a hardship. And now that I’ve got her luscious body on top of me, my hands are free to roam and explore. Every curve, every inch, every spot that is so familiar to me and yet feels brand new as if I’m discovering it for the first time.
I know this woman’s body like the back of my hand. Yet I want to strip her bare and relearn it. Because she’s different now. Softer, rounder, and somehow, even more perfect than before.
Isabelle must have similar thoughts running through her mind because all of a sudden, she backs off, my head lifting to chase her lips when she removes them from mine. She sits back, her ass on my legs, and her hands roam across my bare chest. They still when she comes to my left pec. I know what she sees, her brows furrowing as she reads the small string of numbers.
“Is that…” Her voice trails off, but I know exactly what she’s asking. I lift her hand and kiss her palm before laying it back down over top of my tattoo.
“The date we met? Yeah.”
Her gaze darts up to meet mine. “When did you do that?”
My throat bobs up and down as I swallow. “About a week after you left. I wanted it to be a surprise for you when you got back.”
Her lips part. “Oh.”
I lift my upper body off the couch, coming to a seated position with Iz still straddling my lap. Cupping her face in my hands, I force her to look at me.
“That will forever be one of the best days of my life. No matter what happened after. I don’t regret meeting you or loving you.”
She studies my face for a minute, maybe longer. I don’t dare ask what she’s thinking. But evidently, she reaches a decision, because she leans in and kisses me lightly.
“I don’t regret it either.” She shifts on my lap, and I bite back my groan at how good it feels. Her voice catches as she continues, “But I don’t want either of us to be hurt when I go back to Italy. I need you to promise me we’ll keep this casual. Just two good friends making each other feel good. You’re okay with that? You think we can do that?”
I know she’s looking for reassurance. And while a small voice in my head tells me I’m being a fucking idiot, I find myself nodding.
“We can do that.”
Her hands go to the hem of her shirt, and then she lifts it up and over her head, revealing the expanse of creamy tan skin I’ve wanted to see for so long.
“Isabelle,” I groan, my head falling back as my eyes close.