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So, I do what any rational, emotionally mature man would do. I walk over.
because the second I step outside, he takes my hand without hesitation, his fingers wrapping around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My heart stumbles. Just once. Maybe twice.
AHHHH
“It’s pronounced like oo-luh-vesht. Uile-Bhèist. Scottish Gaelic for monster.”
When his mouth meets mine, it doesn’t feel like a first kiss at all. It feels like every near miss, stolen glance, and what-if finally catching fire. It’s everything I didn’t know existed. Tender but sure. Patient but utterly consuming. He kisses me like it’s something he’s been starving for. And god, I feel it everywhere.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
“Knox here has a girlfriend that doesn’t know he’s married,”
“You’re so beautiful, mo ghràidh.” I tilt my head to meet his gaze. “Mm. Tell me what that means?” His lips curl into a small smile as he leans closer. “My love.”
“I love you more than I can put into words. It would haunt me if I didn’t at least tell you that.”
It’s been eleven days since she left. Not that I’m counting or anything.
I want to map every inch of her with my hands, my lips, my tongue.
“Anything and everything for you, mo ghràidh,”
