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As well he should.
He’d worked hard for weeks to build her a workspace that wasn’t just functional, but beautiful as well. And then he’d driven two hours north to start stripping shingles in the hot July sun.
When had he become this man?
The one she always suspected he’d become but had resolved she wouldn’t get to see it?
When he was apart from her?
She could be sad about it if she wanted, but sadness wasn’t her first emotion.
No. It was gratitude.
And happiness.
For him.
Because if anyone deserved to know what André was capable of, it was him.
Careful, trying not to disturb him, she crawled onto the bed and he sucked in a breath. She folded her legs and backed against the headboard. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned loudly, his hazel eyes tipped up to look at her.
He finished his stretch and rolled onto his side with a sleepy smile.
“I’m ready for my lecture, Professor,” she said, her belly trembling with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation.
His sleepy gaze sharpened on her and he blinked slowly. “You have no idea what it does to me when you call me professor,” he murmured.
“It’s your proper title, right?” she said, sounding a little more breathless than she intended.
“Not when you say it.” He arched an eyebrow and his gaze traveled over her chosen sleep attire.
She’d decided to wear the university tee.
It was the gray sweatpants that led her to that decision. Because if he could drive her crazy, she could do the same to him.
But the way André was looking at her, she may as well have been naked.
All at once he came up on his knees, wrapped one strong arm around her waist; lifted, turned, and placed her on her back at the other end of the bed. She clutched his shoulders and let out a surprised squeak while he was maneuvering her effortlessly through the air.
And just like that, they were lying on the bed with their feet towards the headboard, her on her back, him braced on an elbow looking down at her, one of his thighs resting gently in between hers.
Not lowering his weight, not creating friction or pressure.
Just. There.
Oh my.
Heat curled low in her belly and spread throughout her body.
He curved his palm around her rib cage, his eyes on the emblem across her chest.
He lifted his gaze to hers and she flexed her hands against his skin at what she saw. Desire and need, hope and promise. An open door to every question she had, he was answering in the way he looked at her.
“Nicole,” he said, voice a heavy caress to her senses. One word. A name. Her name, on his lips and in his throat.
It was a callback to who they used to be, a reminder of what they’d been through, who they could be, who they wanted to be.
Who they wanted to be with.
