“Yes. No. I’m not sure.”
“Is Jett okay?” I take a step closer to her.
Her blues blink at me in surprise, and then her gaze softens. “He’s fine. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
She shakes her head, her eyes meeting mine.
“Yes, you do. Tell me why you came here, India,” I urge softly.
“I’m starting to think this is our thing, turning up at each other’s houses and talking complete crap.” She shakily runs her hand through her hair, biting her lip.
I say nothing. I want her to tell me why she is here, and I hope to fucking God it is for the reason I think it is.
“I…” She bites her lip again, and it is beyond distracting. “I missed you. I deeply regret how things ended between us, but seeing you this weekend…the kiss in the elevator…I don’t want to go another seven months without seeing you again, and…telling you how I feel…about you.”
“And how do you feel?” My words are a whisper.
My heart is beating a mile a minute in my chest, but I don’t miss the look of fear in her eyes. It makes me worry that I’m going to lose her, that she is going to back out from telling me what she came here to say. India is always gun-shy, so I don’t hesitate to lay my feelings out for her.
“Because I know for sure how I feel about you.” I step forward, and my hand circles her wrist, pulling her to me. “I love you. I am so fucking in love with you that I am blind to anything else. Being without you these past seven months has been agony. I was pretty sure I was in love with you when I walked out of your house after we had sex, but seeing you this weekend, being with you again, I know for sure. I’m in deep, and I don’t want to get out. I want to get deeper in with you. I want you in my life…to be my life.”
“I…” Her lips part, the word breathing from her, her eyes filling with tears.
“Say it,” I gently coax.
She closes her eyes and then opens them, and I see all her feelings for me written there even if worry is etched into her features.
“I’m in love with you, Leandro. God, so much. I know it’s wrong, and I shouldn’t feel like this about an ex-patient, but I do and—”
I cut off the rest of her words with my lips.
“Nothing about this feels wrong,” I breathe against her mouth. “It couldn’t be more fucking right.”
Her arms come around my neck, fingers curling into my hair. “I love you,” she whispers.
Her words are like an aphrodisiac. My hands go straight to her ass, and I pick her up, loving the feel of her legs going around my waist. Bringing her into my house, I kick the door shut and carry her straight upstairs to my bedroom. We are kissing hungrily, and pulling at each other’s clothes as we move.
God, she tastes so fucking good.
I just need to get her in my bed and pliable under my hands, screaming out my name. Then, I will bury myself so deep inside her that she will feel me in every part of her body, and nothing else will matter.
I’m taking my time with her. No rushing this.
Reaching my bedroom, I walk through the open doorway. She drops her handbag to the floor, right before I lay her down on my bed. Then, I just stand and stare at her, taking her in.
“What?” she says shyly.
“You are maddeningly beautiful, do you know that?”
She shakes her head, her cheeks flushing. I love how easily I can get to her.
I lean over her, taking her face in my hands. “Well, you are. You drive me to distraction.” I brush my mouth over hers. “I can’t think of anything but you.”
I kiss her once more, and then leaning back, I start to unbutton her shirt. When it’s open, I brush the fabric aside, revealing her bra to me.
Pink, silky, perfect.
I press a kiss to the top of her breast, and then I run my tongue to the dip in her cleavage. She grabs my head, a moan falling from her lips.
Rising up, I bring her with me. I remove her shirt and then my own before taking her bra off. Leaning in, I take her breast in my mouth, sucking on her nipple, and her hips jerk against me.
Kissing my way up her chest, I take her mouth with mine again. I am trying to go slow, take my time, but it is getting really fucking hard, and when I feel her hand press against my cock, through the fabric of my jeans, I nearly lose my shit.
Her jeans are off in seconds, and my own follow immediately after.
I fall onto her, and we’re in a tangle of limbs and lips. I can’t kiss or touch enough of her. It’s like sheer desperation, an addiction, needing more and more, not sure when I will hit the point of enough.
But, something tells me, with India, there will never be enough.
Pressing my hand to the mattress, I lift myself from her, allowing me to slide my hand down her stomach. My fingers skim the top of her panties.
“Yes,” falls from her lips in a breathy whisper.
I push my hand under the fabric, finding her wet. “Fuck.” I groan, my head falling to her chest as I run my finger through her slickness.
Then, down over her clit, I lift my head to stare in her eyes as I push my finger inside her. She’s tight, her insides gripping me like a vise. I start to finger her, pressing the heel of my hand against her clit, and then I slip in another finger.
I need to taste her.
“I want you on my mouth,” I roughly tell her, kissing her still. I remove my fingers from inside her and slide my hand around her back. I flip us over until she is lying on top of me. “Sit on my face, baby. I want to feel that sweet little pussy of yours riding my face before I fuck you.”