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“Anyway, I kissed you, remember?” “I remember, Hannah,”
He would do it right. He’d dehydrate the shit out of her.
“Maybe you’ll go to him for stimulating conversation, but I’m where you come for the down and dirty.”
“You’re enough when you’re not touching me,” she whispered, not even sure she said it out loud until Fox’s expression went from lusting to dumbstruck, his chest starting to heave. “You’re enough on your own.”
Hannah belonged in a category far more real than the credits of a movie. A category all her own.
I’ve never even had you, and your body haunts mine.”
“I’m jealous as fuck.” He seemed to be having a hard time getting breath into his lungs. “You’re . . . my Hannah, you know?”
“‘Tip your hand,’”
With his heart rupturing and repairing on repeat in his rib cage, Fox dropped his mouth down on top of hers and begged her with his tongue and lips to save him from the middle of the ocean where he’d been existing without her for so long.
“You make me feel like I’m in the exact right place.” He exhaled into her neck, kissing it reverently. “Nothing to run or hide from. Nothing I want to avoid.”
