Rebecca
For a moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing—his, steady and close; mine, shallow and quick like my heart's trying to catch up.
I don't pull away. I don't laugh it off like I normally would. Instead, I lift my eyes to meet his.
He's watching me with that look again. The smoldering look that melts me from the inside.
"Rebecca," he says again, quieter this time. Like my name is something he's trying not to break in his mouth. "I am serious."
"I know," I whisper.
And I want it too. More than anything. I've been wanting him all day.
My hands slide up his chest, resting over the steady beat of his heart.
"Take me to bed then?" I ask.
His eyes hold mine. "Yes."
I lean up then and kiss him, slow, like we have all the time in the world. He groans low in his throat and pulls me in deeper, his hands splayed across my back, holding me.
He scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing and carries me to his room.
