Page 73 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“She tried,” he says in a rush. “I’m not saying she didn’t. It was— Things were⁠—”

I touch his jaw, something about the sudden urgency in his voice making my heart ache. “I know she tried. It’s clear she loves you very much.”

A moment of quiet, his arms growing tighter. “Yeah, she does. And did,” he adds softly.

“You know what I find works well in times like these?”

His lips tip up ever so slightly at the edges. “What’s that, Pages?”

“Hot chocolate and cookies.”

“That’s good,” he says lightly. “But you know what I find works well in times like these?”

“Tell me.”

“I’d rather show you.”

I blink, lips parting⁠—

And he takes advantage, cupping my cheeks in his hands, tipping my face up while he leans in and…

Kisses me like he needs it to breathe.

His tongue slips between my lips and⁠—

I melt, moan bubbling up my throat, arms going around his shoulders, holding tight as he kisses me and kisses me and kisses me. Strength and heat, desire a tornado through my insides, my legs trembling, my mind going fuzzy except for one thing.

Sawyer.

I need him.

I want him.

God, I want him so badly.

As though he can pluck that thought from my mind, he slips one hand under the edge of my T-shirt, slightly roughened fingertips trailing over my skin.

He pauses, our breaths intermingling. “Okay?” he asks, brushing them back and forth over my hip.

I nod.

“Kinda need the words, Pages.”

A shuddering breath. “Yes, Sawyer. Please touch me.”

His hand spasms on my side but then he’s trailing it up, drifting it along my ribs, sliding it up toward my breasts. He pauses just beneath them, the tip of his finger lightly stroking my skin. “Still okay, baby?”

I exhale shakily. “Yes.”

Blazing blue eyes on mine.

His finger slipping beneath the band of my bra, tracing around to the back and⁠—

We both groan as he flicks the elastic open and my breasts spring free.

“Touch me,” I say before he can ask.

Thankfully, he does.