Page 77 of Love Me
Because when it’s just the two of us, there isn’t.
“What’s up?”
She pokes out her lips, making my eyes drop to them. My mouth waters because I want nothing more than to kiss her. To kiss away any and all doubts, insecurities, fears, or whatever else is putting that worried expression on her face.
“Are you still worried about the gallery?”
Less than eight weeks before the scheduled opening. She has five artists locked in to debut on opening night. But she’s constantly on the look for more artists to feature. More women who’ve gone overlooked and undervalued.
Between seeking out artists, the time she spends at the gallery overseeing renovations, and the general needs of starting a new business, plus volunteering at the women’s clinic, I’m scared she might be overworking herself.
“No,” she says with a small shake of her head. “Just thinking about the past, to be honest.”
She looks me right in the eyes, searching mine. It’s as if she’s waiting for me to figure out what she’s talking about.
“What past?” We have a lot of history together.
“Junior year of college.”
I know immediately what she’s referring to. That son of a bitch.
“We never really talked about—”
“We don’t need to,” I say, cutting her off. “It’s in the past and he’s … no more.”
Slater Cullen met his fate a few years after we graduated college. An ugly car accident.
She opens her mouth as if she wants to protest, but I pull her in for a kiss. As always, I pour everything into the kiss. Almost everything.
The truth is, kissing her makes me want to rip away every shred of clothing, bend her over the nearest table, and not let her up until her voice is hoarse from screaming my name.
The tips of my fingers tingle to squeeze the flesh around her hips until the imprints of my hands are left on her body. I want to drive into her with the force of all of this pent-up emotion.
But I can’t do that.
Not to her.
My one and only aim is to protect her. Not to go all caveman on her. No matter how badly I want that. I can keep that part of me in check.
Still, I can kiss her. Which is exactly what I continue to do. Damn the people around us.
“Is he kissing my baby?” That deep, booming voice is like a douse of cold water to my senses.
Monique is the first one to pull back though. She immediately spins around like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Dad, Mom,” she says, sounding breathless.
Without hesitation, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into my side. I’ve been waiting for this moment. It’s about time her parents and the rest of our family found out the truth. That I’m not about to let her go so they all might as well get used to it.
Not that most of them didn’t see it coming.
“Why the hell are you kissing my daughter like that in public?” Uncle Damon demands.
“Daddy, calm down,” Monique says. She moves to take a step forward, but I tighten my arm around her waist. I don’t want her far from me.
Her father doesn’t miss it either. He glares at me.
“I’ve treated you like a son,” he says with narrowed eyes.