Page 104 of My Unfinished Heart

“I always tried to focus on the things you did do.”

“Is this really happening?” I ask to diffuse the surge of emotion in my chest.

“God, I fucking hope so.”

“I mean you and me…us?”

He turns his head to look me in the eyes. “It’s what you want, right?”

“Was I not clear on that?” I ask.

“I’m just checking. I’m not moving tomorrow, so you won’t have nearly as convenient of an excuse to blow me off.”

As if I ever could. He feels so much like home to me already. The familiarity of his body. The way his head tilts toward mine. The understanding we seem to have that there are no words that shouldn’t be said. “You’ll have to go a lot further than Houston to get away from me this time.”

“No, I think I’ll like it better here if you would just…please…kiss me.”

EIGHTEEN

Homecoming

This was too easy. It’s too good to be true. Tristan Chase is on my lap. I have him firmly in my grasp. Yesterday he could barely look at me, and now…now I think he might kill me if I ask him one more clarifying question. If this is real, then there’ll be time for that later.

His lips are right in front of mine, and we’ve both waited long enough. I drag my nose down his, lift my chin, and our mouths meet, opening together as we kiss for the first time in four years, diving head first into this dream. It’s better than I remember. So much better because memories lie.

I shove my hands into his hair, and I kiss him harder, deeper—desperate to fill the void he left when he went away. And he does it. With a quiet passion that feels like it hasn’t ebbed in all the time we’ve been apart. “Tristan,” I whisper in disbelief.

“Mm.”

How could I have ever second-guessed this?

Fuck it, I’ll figure it out later.

I run my hands down his back. When I’m gripping his waist, he kisses me again, his tongue sweeping past mine, drawing out a sigh from me that turns into a groan of wanting more.

His wet lips close over mine, breathless as he draws his mouth away. He stands up, taking my hand, and we leave the kitchen. Side by side, we enter the hallway, headed for my bedroom.

“I’ve never been in here before,” he says.

I don’t have to be a genius to know he’s thinking about Jayne as he takes a sweeping glance around the corner room.

Staring at the meticulously made bed, he whispers, “Tell me again how much you want this.”

I’m beyond words. “Let me show you instead.” With his hand in mine, I lead him to the bed. He turns to me and strips off his shirt. Mine has buttons, but I get to work on them. He helps me with the bottom three and then slides it past my shoulders, leaning in to kiss the tendon at the base of my neck. He smells so good. Different. More like vanilla and spice than coconut and spring. I kiss his shorter hair, dying a little bit at the way it curls against my face.

When he pulls away, he reaches behind his neck to unclasp the necklace. I open my mouth to stop him, but he looks up at me and shakes his head. “You said you wanted it back.”

“I think I was talking about you.”

Regardless, he puts the necklace back on me. He adjusts the small charm, still warm from his skin, to rest between my collarbones, planting a kiss on it before he gives it a fond look. “Just like I remember…”

I touch his perfect face, running my paint-stained thumb over his jaw. I kiss the lips that were meant for me as his hands move up my back, pulling me closer. And then it’s just like that night—the night on the walkway in front of his house—I can’t get him close enough.

Every single ounce of how much I missed him, how long I’ve waited and hoped for this, comes out in the way I reclaim his body. I want it all back. Voice, words, skin, hair.

Water, breath, blood, and bone.

He’s inside me like that. He never left.