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Authors: Stella Cameron
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loved you."
Past tense. What would he say if she told him she'd never stopped loving him, that she considered herself sick because she didn't think she would ever stop loving him?
"What do you want, Sebastian?"
He made no sudden moves. She was aware of the slow descent of his big hands onto her shoulders, of his looping his fingers around her neck and raising her chin with his thumbs until she could either lower her eyelids, or stare into his eyes— so close the gold flecks glittered.
Bliss stared into his eyes.
He bent over her. His mouth settled on her forehead, just rested there, then he kissed her softly and she heard a small, broken sound from deep in his throat.
The next kiss found her lips.
Not the same. The same man, the same falling, sweetly drowning sensations, but a different time and place. Once kisses had been enough. Kisses and touches, and the promise of more to come had been enough. They weren't enough now—they were too much, too much to endure when they tore into her,
laid her open, whipped to burning reality the hundreds of days and nights of settling for the loss of him.
Sebastian found her hands and drew them around his neck. He lifted her to her feet and surrounded her, held her so tightly she couldn't breathe. But she didn't want to breathe. She only wanted these kisses, these sensations.
They struggled against each other, pressed closer, passed their hands greedily over each other's body. The time fled away. They were teenagers and they were adults. All at once, all blending. The heat of their youth became the fire of their adult coming together.
You are not a teenager.
Bliss's lungs burned. She gasped, and pushed at Sebastian. He held her even more firmly. His heavy erection probed her belly. His thighs flanked hers, trapped hers.
She drove her fists into his shoulders and turned her head away.
He released her so abruptly she toppled into the chair. Just as quickly, she was on her feet again and putting distance between them.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have done that."
Bliss reached the sinks and put her hands behind her to brace her shaky weight. "No. Neither should I."
"I didn't come here to kiss you."
"Of course not."
"At least . . ." He sat in the chair she'd vacated and buried his face in his hands. "I wanted to kiss you when I saw you. I want to kiss you again, now. And that's not all I want."
Revelation.
"Why are you here? Really here?"
"To see you. I told you. I came to Washington, to Bellevue, to see you. Some crazy notion made me decide to come here and mend fences."
"Crazy," she agreed, wanting to believe him.
"I'm not married, Bliss."
She bit into her swollen bottom lip.
"I haven't been for years."
She shouldn't be glad, but she was.
"No one wanted me to come here. I did it anyway."
Surely he didn't expect her to believe he'd done so because of her. "This area's very different from what it was when we were kids."
"Uh-huh. Actually it's been a natural expansion for me for a long time, but I've kept away."
She frowned.
"I stayed out of the Northwest because ... It seemed best. Then I decided I wanted to prove I wasn't the punk all those people thought I was."
"The people where you lived? The people we went to school with?"
"Yeah. All of them."
"So you're setting up shop here."
"Not because of them anymore. Oh, I want to prove myself, but that's not the main reason. I wanted to see if there was a chance for you and me, Bliss."
Her blood stood still, and her heart.
"Now I know there is. I felt it. When I kissed you, I felt it. You still feel something for me."
She still felt something for him? Was that any way to describe all that raging, pent-up sexual and emotional hunger he'd unleashed?
He smiled at her, the lopsided smile she'd never been able to erase from her memory. "You may be a little thinner, Bliss."
"You're bigger." She looked at the holes in the toes of her sneakers. "I'm a lot older."
"You're thirty-two. Perfect age. I'm
Past tense. What would he say if she told him she'd never stopped loving him, that she considered herself sick because she didn't think she would ever stop loving him?
"What do you want, Sebastian?"
He made no sudden moves. She was aware of the slow descent of his big hands onto her shoulders, of his looping his fingers around her neck and raising her chin with his thumbs until she could either lower her eyelids, or stare into his eyes— so close the gold flecks glittered.
Bliss stared into his eyes.
He bent over her. His mouth settled on her forehead, just rested there, then he kissed her softly and she heard a small, broken sound from deep in his throat.
The next kiss found her lips.
Not the same. The same man, the same falling, sweetly drowning sensations, but a different time and place. Once kisses had been enough. Kisses and touches, and the promise of more to come had been enough. They weren't enough now—they were too much, too much to endure when they tore into her,
laid her open, whipped to burning reality the hundreds of days and nights of settling for the loss of him.
Sebastian found her hands and drew them around his neck. He lifted her to her feet and surrounded her, held her so tightly she couldn't breathe. But she didn't want to breathe. She only wanted these kisses, these sensations.
They struggled against each other, pressed closer, passed their hands greedily over each other's body. The time fled away. They were teenagers and they were adults. All at once, all blending. The heat of their youth became the fire of their adult coming together.
You are not a teenager.
Bliss's lungs burned. She gasped, and pushed at Sebastian. He held her even more firmly. His heavy erection probed her belly. His thighs flanked hers, trapped hers.
She drove her fists into his shoulders and turned her head away.
He released her so abruptly she toppled into the chair. Just as quickly, she was on her feet again and putting distance between them.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have done that."
Bliss reached the sinks and put her hands behind her to brace her shaky weight. "No. Neither should I."
"I didn't come here to kiss you."
"Of course not."
"At least . . ." He sat in the chair she'd vacated and buried his face in his hands. "I wanted to kiss you when I saw you. I want to kiss you again, now. And that's not all I want."
Revelation.
"Why are you here? Really here?"
"To see you. I told you. I came to Washington, to Bellevue, to see you. Some crazy notion made me decide to come here and mend fences."
"Crazy," she agreed, wanting to believe him.
"I'm not married, Bliss."
She bit into her swollen bottom lip.
"I haven't been for years."
She shouldn't be glad, but she was.
"No one wanted me to come here. I did it anyway."
Surely he didn't expect her to believe he'd done so because of her. "This area's very different from what it was when we were kids."
"Uh-huh. Actually it's been a natural expansion for me for a long time, but I've kept away."
She frowned.
"I stayed out of the Northwest because ... It seemed best. Then I decided I wanted to prove I wasn't the punk all those people thought I was."
"The people where you lived? The people we went to school with?"
"Yeah. All of them."
"So you're setting up shop here."
"Not because of them anymore. Oh, I want to prove myself, but that's not the main reason. I wanted to see if there was a chance for you and me, Bliss."
Her blood stood still, and her heart.
"Now I know there is. I felt it. When I kissed you, I felt it. You still feel something for me."
She still felt something for him? Was that any way to describe all that raging, pent-up sexual and emotional hunger he'd unleashed?
He smiled at her, the lopsided smile she'd never been able to erase from her memory. "You may be a little thinner, Bliss."
"You're bigger." She looked at the holes in the toes of her sneakers. "I'm a lot older."
"You're thirty-two. Perfect age. I'm
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