“Is he?” She’s surprised, but that’s not strange or unusual. Even if she had met Henry, which she hasn’t, he has a certain way of allowing people to underestimate him. He looks very innocent and honestly, he looks a little naïve. The idea that he’s secret a tech genius is pretty incredible.
“He’s working with me at the bakery, but honestly, it’s far beneath him. If he wasn’t here taking care of his aunt and uncle, he’d probably be living in a big city making a fuck ton of money.” I’m glad that he’s happy at the bakery. He’s good at what we do, and if I didn’t have him, I don’t know what I would do.
“Is that so?”
“It’s so. He’s really talented. I don’t know what it is, but he’s just got a knack for technology. The way I handle baking…well, that’s how he is with tech.” When I’m working with dough or batter, something just speaks to my soul. It’s like I connect with what I’m creating in the most tangible way. In some ways, Henry is far more talented than I could ever dream of being because he can do bot
h: he can do tech, and he can do baking.
She looks at me for a long time. There must be so many incredible and crazy thoughts running through that pretty head of hers, but finally, she seems to make some sort of decision, and she nods.
“Okay,” she says.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“It sounds like you’re trusting me.”
“That’s because I am.”
“Why?” She said before that she’s trusting me, but still, I don’t get it. We haven’t been together forever. Hell, we’ve barely spoken to each other in years, and she’s just…trusting me?
It doesn’t make any damn sense.
Yet, I guess that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?
It all hits me in the gut. I feel like I’ve been punched as I realize that maybe there’s a chance for us after all. True love doesn’t always make sense, and I don’t think either one of us really ever stopped loving the other. Maybe that’s the biggest problem we have right now. We’re both completely wrapped up in the idea of what could have been. Maybe instead of thinking about the time we’ve lost, we should think about how we can move forward from this.
So instead of waiting for an answer as to why she suddenly trusts me, I just move around the counter, and I reach for her. I pull Foxy off of the stool and into my arms, and I kiss her. It’s a soft kiss at first: it’s a kiss we shouldn’t be sharing. Neither one of us should be doing this, and we both know it. Somehow, though, I can’t bring myself to care, and I kiss her deeper and deeper until she groans against my mouth.
My body reacts and I’m hard for her, ready for her, and I lift her up higher in my arms. The blanket falls away, unnoticed, and her body is tight against mine. I hold her against me as I kiss her over and over again, silently promising her so many things. She reacts, wrapping her legs around me, and she starts wiggling against me, grinding her body against my own.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to want to fuck you, little fox,” I tell her. I’m not sure if that’s something she’s ready for. Then again, last night she seemed to think it was a good idea, and now… Well, now there’s a big part of me that thinks I was an idiot for waiting. I didn’t want her to feel pressured, though, and I didn’t want her to make a decision in the heat of the moment. If we’re going to do this thing, then I want it to be because it’s what she wants. I don’t want it to be because she’s scared or because she’s trying to forget. I want it to be because she needs this.
Because she craves it.
“I want you to fuck me,” she groans, kissing me again. She nips at my lip before moving to my neck: kissing it, teasing it. Every part of my body feels like it’s suddenly on fire in the very best way.
Shit.
What the hell is this woman doing to me?
She’s making me go crazy.
She’s making me happy.
Delighted.
Wonderful.
She wiggles against me, and I can scent her arousal even through my clothes. My inner-lion wants her so very badly. I can feel her fox crying out for me, too.
A lot of people don’t believe in true mates, and I used to be one of them. Foxy changed everything for me, though. Maybe we really were just childhood sweethearts destined to fail, but something tells me that our relationship is so much more than that.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need you.”
I need her, too.