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"Can do her worst. If she tries to hurt my mom's business... let her. She hasn’t seen the momma bear come out. You should see Ma at a Black Friday sale." He backs up for a second to act like he’s wielding a sword and slashing dragons.
Chuckling a bit, I pull him back, pressing my ear against his chest. I listen to the rapid beat of his heart, its rhythm a mirror to my own. The joy at his return battles with the remorse inside me, but I can't bear to let him go. It's like the gentle pull of the tide; I let happiness wash over me only to be pulled away again with a new wave of guilt.
I feel his intense gaze on me. With a mix of hesitation and determination, I lift my face to meet his eyes. I need to see that he knows how much this means to me. The tenderness I find there steals my breath, sending my heart into a frenzy.
"Tilly…" His voice is a soft rumble, vibrating with a desire that sends shivers cascading through me.
"Tommy…" My reply is a whisper, our names floating in the space between us, heavy with all the things we've left unsaid.
His face splits with a smirk. “Those are our names.” I smile back because what else can I do? I know what I want to say, something along the lines of Please, Tommy, have my babies because my uterus is apparently running the show now. Damn hormones. Damn man smelling so damn good.
I’m about to say something, probably stick my foot in my mouth, but the look I find when I meet his eyes is too intense. And I don’t have to tell him what I want. It must be written on my face because he closes the distance between us. There’s no teasing and no interruptions. Any number of true tyrants, guns, tasers, marching bands, or earthquakes could happen, and I wouldn’t let them stop him.
His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s gentle and soft. Tingles spread across my skin, a shower of sparks that seems to light up the very air around us. It's a kiss years in the making, and my whole body feels lighter, almost floating, at the touch of his supple lips.
My hands find their way around his neck, pulling him closer, seeking more depth, more connection, more Tommy. More. More. More. This kiss, this moment, speaks louder than any words ever could.
His arms squeeze my waist with an intensity that teeters on the edge of pain, igniting an excitement within me that quickly morphs into a blazing passion. The world beyond us blurs into nothingness, leaving only us.
His tongue traces along my lips until I part them. He explores me, his taste a mixture of liquor and mint, as if inviting me into a forbidden dance. I feel his cock against my hip, growing, pressing into me, and a moan escapes from the depths of my stomach straight into his mouth. This is Tommy kissing me. My Tommy. The realization consumes my every thought.
My need for him evolves, becoming as essential as the air I breathe. Our kiss deepens again, his hands wandering across my back in slow, deliberate strokes, each touch stirring a trail of heat across my skin. Every move he makes, I match. There's no hesitation, only movement and colliding. When he nibbles my lip, I bite back with equal gentleness. As his tongue searches my mouth, I explore his with the same stroke. It's everything I never knew I wanted in a kiss and one for the century. Forget every other half-ass ridiculous make-out session in my life. This. This is all I want for the rest of my life.
When he pulls back, his eyes lock onto mine, a breathless "Holy shit," falling from his lips as he rests his forehead against mine. The scratch of his stitches against my skin is a minor detail, though I do hate that he's been hurt. We're both panting, hearts racing as if we've just swum across an ocean.
"Um, yeah, ya think?" I manage, my voice breathy, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He chuckles before tenderly kissing the tip of my nose.
A smile flickers across my lips as I rest my head against his chest once more. The urge to tear away all barriers between us, starting with his perfectly tailored tuxedo, is overwhelming. His allure isn't just physical; it's the way his strong hands move over me, how his tongue dances with mine, so skillfully teasing. It's no surprise that kissing him is with the same intensity as everything else we do together. The give and take is much the same as our playful banter.
I have to stop myself from imagining his touch elsewhere—along my neck, down my abdomen, between my legs—the thought alone is enough to send a jolt of desire through me.
If that kiss was any indication, I will get what I'm imagining. Hopefully before I spontaneously combust from the sexual tension pulsing between us. But for the time being, I simply surrender to the moment, swaying gently with him. The soft glow of the lights and the mellow strains of jazz above have created a cocoon of intimacy around us.
In his arms, amidst the rhythm of our dance, I feel like I’ve finally found everything I didn’t know I was looking for. A profound sense of contentment envelops me.
“My Tommy,” I say, almost to myself.
“Yours, Tilly,” he says, kissing my temple.
Chapter eighteen
Tommy
Holding Tilly close to my chest through three more songs, my desire to whisk her away to the privacy of her hotel room only grows. With my arms around her, my mind is flooded with thoughts of getting her alone, exploring every inch of her body in ways I've fantasized about countless times.
That kiss. Fuck. That beautiful perfect kiss. Witnessing her response, the way her eyes clouded over with desire, the involuntary shudder under my touch, it was all I ever imagined it would be. Lifting her hand, I gaze into her curious eyes as I press a kiss to her open palm, never breaking eye contact. The sound she makes, a mix of surprise and delight, goes straight to my already half hard cock.
The craving to do more with her is overwhelming, every fiber of my being is screaming for me to sweep her off her feet and find somewhere to undress her from the sexy as sin dress. But patience wins out; it has to. It's either that or go head to head with her terrifying aunt. I'm a man, okay? I know I'm supposed to be fearless and protective. But how the hell am I supposed to protect her from her own fucking family? Now's not really the time to sort that out, so I don't. Pushing the thought away, I hold onto Tilly tighter. It's all I can do at the moment and really, all I want anyway.
Halfway through the next slow number, Miranda rushes past us and I almost miss her warning. “I just overhead Keaton talking to Don. He need's to leave. Now.”
Without hesitating, Tilly drags me from the dance floor. Instead of heading for the exit, she pushes me against the back wall, her lips seeking mine with an urgency that sets my pulse racing. I can hardly breathe. "Uh, Til, not that I’m complaining, but aren’t we leaving?" I manage to get out between her kisses.
"Just trust me," she breathes against my neck, her tongue tracing lines that send shivers all over my body. I'm acutely aware of the many eyes on us and I have to admit, it's kind of hot. "Tickle me," she whispers. I recoil, my brows low on my forehead. For a moment, I'm frozen because its such a bizarre request. But when my eyes meet hers, I see the desperation. "Please," she adds.
I play along, scrunching my fingers along her sides drawing a loud, exaggerated giggle from her. After the strange display, she grabs onto my hand. Dragging me, she pulls us to the elevator, her affections bold and unreserved as we walk. She’s nibbling my ear, and squeezing my ass. I can't help but wonder if she enjoys the thrill of being seen. To my surprise, the idea doesn’t horrify me. But then again, everything about being with Tilly is exciting. Who am I to judge if she wants people to see how much we like each other?
Inside the elevator, she presses me against the wall again, her kisses promising more once we’re upstairs. But as the doors close, she stops, stepping back. Her eyes going from sultry to scared in an instant.
