the last thing he heard before their lips met.
She stiffened for the briefest moment—whether it was to fight him or run from him, he didn’t know—before she made the clear decision to stay. The lithe, supple lines of her body went soft under his fingers and Avery took the last few steps into him.
And then he feasted.
The memories of her that had haunted him for years fled with the reality of having her in his arms again. The soft cavern of her mouth and the erotic play of tongues both took him back and moved him firmly into the here and now.
And as her tongue wrapped around his, drawing him deeply into her mouth, he realized that the memories he’d carried were of a girl. The woman in his arms was real, and so much better.
As if he needed any further evidence of that fact, her curves spilled into his hands as he shifted his grip from her back to her waist. With his other hand, he skimmed his fingertips up the side of her body, brushing ever so lightly against the side of her breast.
A light moan whispered through her lips and he did it again, satisfied when her breathing hitched at his touch.
She’d always loved when he touched her breasts and had grown more demanding about it as they’d learned each others’ bodies. Each other’s rhythm. On some level he couldn’t define, it was gratifying to still know where to give her pleasure.
And how to make her moan.
So many things had changed in the time he’d been gone; he reveled in the sensation of knowing that they still fit.
Which was why he wasn’t surprised when her hands came up hard against his chest.
“Roman—”
“What?” He marshaled his resources and skimmed his fingers once more over her torso, using his thumb to put additional pressure over the fullness of her breast.
“Roman.” She stepped back, her lips wet from their kiss and her dark eyes glowing with an arousal he knew mirrored his own. “We can’t do this.”
“We can do this.” He levered his hands at her hips to pull her closer.
“No. We can’t.”
Like a shutter slamming closed over the light streaming through a window, her passion-filled gaze shut down, replaced with an icy cool that stopped him from reaching for her again.
“We can dance around this, Avery. Or we can do something about it.”
“Don’t let nostalgia cloud your judgment, Roman. We stopped doing anything a long time ago. Dancing or otherwise.”
Before he could muster up a response, she unlocked her door and slipped through it, not even turning to say good night.
• • •
The aftereffects of kissing Avery still hummed in his veins the following morning as Roman did his daily run through town. He had waved to a few early risers, but most of Indigo was still indoors, sleeping off a night of revelry.
Fresh air flowed in and out of his lungs with each step he took, and he appreciated the change in routine. July in Manhattan was usually stifling, and the tang of cool, crisp air was a welcome respite.
He followed a curving path out of town and along the river that ran outside Indigo. He’d done this run more times than he could count and the familiarity was a comforting presence as he processed the events of the last few days.
The overheated moment in front of Avery’s doorway had haunted his dreams last night and he’d stood there for several moments, imagining what it would have been like if she’d allowed him to follow her inside. Long, soulful kisses like the one they’d shared in the hall. The languid removal of the silk material that showcased her figure to perfection. The press of their slick flesh as they came together after so many years apart.
He could see all of it—every taste and touch—and it filled him with a quiet desperation he’d never had a name for.
All he wanted was Avery.
His
Avery.
And for the next month he’d be in close proximity to the one woman on the planet who drove him absolutely crazy.
A rush of anger surged and he used it as an added incentive
She stiffened for the briefest moment—whether it was to fight him or run from him, he didn’t know—before she made the clear decision to stay. The lithe, supple lines of her body went soft under his fingers and Avery took the last few steps into him.
And then he feasted.
The memories of her that had haunted him for years fled with the reality of having her in his arms again. The soft cavern of her mouth and the erotic play of tongues both took him back and moved him firmly into the here and now.
And as her tongue wrapped around his, drawing him deeply into her mouth, he realized that the memories he’d carried were of a girl. The woman in his arms was real, and so much better.
As if he needed any further evidence of that fact, her curves spilled into his hands as he shifted his grip from her back to her waist. With his other hand, he skimmed his fingertips up the side of her body, brushing ever so lightly against the side of her breast.
A light moan whispered through her lips and he did it again, satisfied when her breathing hitched at his touch.
She’d always loved when he touched her breasts and had grown more demanding about it as they’d learned each others’ bodies. Each other’s rhythm. On some level he couldn’t define, it was gratifying to still know where to give her pleasure.
And how to make her moan.
So many things had changed in the time he’d been gone; he reveled in the sensation of knowing that they still fit.
Which was why he wasn’t surprised when her hands came up hard against his chest.
“Roman—”
“What?” He marshaled his resources and skimmed his fingers once more over her torso, using his thumb to put additional pressure over the fullness of her breast.
“Roman.” She stepped back, her lips wet from their kiss and her dark eyes glowing with an arousal he knew mirrored his own. “We can’t do this.”
“We can do this.” He levered his hands at her hips to pull her closer.
“No. We can’t.”
Like a shutter slamming closed over the light streaming through a window, her passion-filled gaze shut down, replaced with an icy cool that stopped him from reaching for her again.
“We can dance around this, Avery. Or we can do something about it.”
“Don’t let nostalgia cloud your judgment, Roman. We stopped doing anything a long time ago. Dancing or otherwise.”
Before he could muster up a response, she unlocked her door and slipped through it, not even turning to say good night.
• • •
The aftereffects of kissing Avery still hummed in his veins the following morning as Roman did his daily run through town. He had waved to a few early risers, but most of Indigo was still indoors, sleeping off a night of revelry.
Fresh air flowed in and out of his lungs with each step he took, and he appreciated the change in routine. July in Manhattan was usually stifling, and the tang of cool, crisp air was a welcome respite.
He followed a curving path out of town and along the river that ran outside Indigo. He’d done this run more times than he could count and the familiarity was a comforting presence as he processed the events of the last few days.
The overheated moment in front of Avery’s doorway had haunted his dreams last night and he’d stood there for several moments, imagining what it would have been like if she’d allowed him to follow her inside. Long, soulful kisses like the one they’d shared in the hall. The languid removal of the silk material that showcased her figure to perfection. The press of their slick flesh as they came together after so many years apart.
He could see all of it—every taste and touch—and it filled him with a quiet desperation he’d never had a name for.
All he wanted was Avery.
His
Avery.
And for the next month he’d be in close proximity to the one woman on the planet who drove him absolutely crazy.
A rush of anger surged and he used it as an added incentive
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