Kiss Me Like This

by Bella Andre

  But it was a photo near the bottom of the pile that made her forget not to gasp out loud.

  Sean's mother was sleeping in the picture. She was in a hospital bed, with wires and tubes all over and around her. She was painfully thin and pale. So horribly pale that it was obvious there was nothing more to be done for her. Serena stared at the picture, her heart breaking for him all over again.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  She was still holding the picture of his mother in the hospital as she slowly turned to face him. The utter despair on his face almost made her lose her voice. But though she'd totally screwed up and needed to apologize, she first needed him to know how much she cared for him. And that she wanted so badly to help heal his pain.

  "I'm so sorry, Sean. Your mother--" She looked down at the heart-wrenching photo in her hand. "--she's beautiful."

  In a flash, he ripped the photo from her fingers. Roughly, quickly, he gathered them all up and threw them back into the box.

  "Careful!" she pleaded as she came to her feet. "Those pictures you took, they're precious. You shouldn't ruin them because you're angry with me." Despair had turned to fury in his dark eyes as he swung around to face her. Her chest, her stomach, all of her hurt, as she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to look. I swear I didn't. I accidentally kicked the box and when the cover came off--"

  "It sure doesn't look like a goddamned accident to me, you sitting there with my pictures on the floor all around you."

  He was right. Even though finding the pictures had been an accident, poring through them hadn't been. "I shouldn't have looked at them. I know I shouldn't have, not when you weren't ready to show them to me." She wanted to reach out to him, wanted to touch him again, wanted to try to close the huge distance that was growing between them. Especially when she'd never seen him look so anguished. "But I..."

  He shifted just out of range of her fingertips. "But what? You thought you'd do it anyway just because you felt like it? Because you've always gotten everything you wanted so you figured this was one more thing that should be yours?"

  She sucked in a shaky breath even though all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out by her stupid decision to pry into his past, his emotions, the most painful part of his life.

  "I care about you, Sean, you know that I do," she told him in a voice barely above a whisper. "And when I saw the picture on top, when I realized it was your mother, I--" Her voice broke on the single syllable. "I'm sorry."

  "How could you?" But he didn't give her a chance to try to answer. "I thought I knew you."

  "You do know me."

  "Do I? Or was I just being an idiot, blinded by your face like everyone else?"

  It stung, God, how it stung, to hear him talk about her looks right now, and to blame his feelings on them. Especially after the way she'd told him last night that he was the only person in her life who didn't look at her face as a commodity.

  "I'm so sorry for looking at the pictures without your consent, sorrier than you'll ever know," she said again as she tried to push away his heated words, words she didn't want to believe he could possibly mean. He was grieving and in terrible pain over the loss of his mother, and her actions had obviously brought all of those feelings back up before he was ready to deal with them. "But I've seen the way you look every time your mother comes up and I want so badly to be there for you."

  "So this is how you thought you'd do it? By snooping through my things?"

  Why couldn't he see that she hadn't meant to hurt him? That she'd only done what she had because she cared so much about him? And that it also hurt her the way he was shutting down, shutting her out so completely?

  "You asked me from the start to trust you. You said it was okay to be scared, because you'd make sure that I didn't get hurt, and that we wouldn't move too fast. I've tried to keep trusting you, tried so hard that sometimes I actually think I've succeeded at conquering some of my own demons. But now, with these photos which obviously mean everything to you, why can't you trust me, too?" When he didn't say anything, even though something way down deep inside of her it felt like everything was starting to shatter, she still couldn't let herself give up on him. On them. "I know I can't understand what it must be like to lose your mother. But if you can just try to let me in a little--"

  "How many times have you spoken to your mother since you've been on campus?"

  "I..." Her throat felt as raw as if she'd been crying all night rather than sleeping in Sean's arms. "I haven't."

  "Do you know how many times I would have given anything to talk to my mom again? You haven't even talked to yours at all, but now you want me to open up to you about mine being dead?"

  She knew he was hurting terribly, but for everything he thought she didn't understand about him, there was just as much he didn't understand about her. And what he didn't know about her mattered. Mattered a lot, even if it wasn't life and death.

  "Do you know why I haven't talked to my mom? Because she won't call me back. She won't write me back, won't have anything at all to do with me, because she's so mad at me for finally making my own decisions about everything. But even though she doesn't understand why I need to make my own decisions for once in my life, I've been trying so hard to make sure they're the right ones." God, she could hardly think it, let alone say it aloud, but she had to. "Now you're making me think I haven't. Now you're making me wonder if the dumbest thing I ever did was trust you with myself. With my heart." Her breath was coming fast and her ears were ringing as if she was in the front row of a hard-rock concert. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, so impossibly sorry that you're hurting. I'm so sorry you lost your mom. I'm so sorry I pried into your private things. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have kept looking at your pictures. One day I hope you'll be able to forgive me. But most of all, one day--" She could barely get the words out around the tears that clogged her throat as she reached blindly for the doorknob, needing to run so he wouldn't see just how broken she felt about opening up her heart to him just in time for him to break it in two. "One day I hope you'll find a way to be happy again. Because there's nothing I want more for you than that."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It had been a huge shock to see Serena going through his pictures. But it had been an even worse shock to see the photos of his mom again.

  Sean hadn't just stayed away from his camera since the day his mom died. He'd completely avoided his box of pictures, too, not even letting Olivia dig into them for the funeral when she'd needed some extra photos to display for the hundreds of people who had come to pay their final respects.

  Just hours earlier, he'd fallen asleep holding Serena in his arms, and it was her absence that had woken him up. He'd been so glad to see that she was still there. But then, when he'd realized what she was looking at, it had felt like all his skin had been ripped off and there was nothing left of him but blood and bones and guts in front of her. That was why he'd reacted so harshly. Too harshly. Like a complete idiot who couldn't stop things he didn't even believe about her from spewing out of his mouth.

  Not until she'd turned to walk away from him and it finally got through his thick skull that she was leaving.

  Leaving him.

  Because he'd hurt her.

  "Please." He caught her halfway down the back stairs. "Please don't go. I'm sorry for everything I just said. I'm sorry for everything I just did." He didn't care who heard them, who saw them together. All that mattered was that Serena knew he was sorrier about what he'd said to her than he'd ever been for anything his entire life. "If I could talk about my mom with anyone, it would be with you. I didn't mean what I said. I swear I didn't."

  For several long, painful moments, she didn't move. Didn't speak. And he thought for sure that he'd lost her.

  But then, when she finally turned back to face him, he was brought nearly to his knees. Because instead of looking at him with hate...all he could see was the pure truth of how much she cared about him. Just like she'd said over and over when
he'd been blinded by grief.

  "I know you didn't," she said softly. And then, though he didn't deserve it after what he'd said, after the way he'd behaved--when anyone else would already have been gone by now--she slid her arms around him and laid her face against his chest. "And I know you would."

  "Don't leave. Please don't leave me, Serena."

  She didn't answer him with words, simply slid her hand through his and led them back to his room.

  Desperate to make right everything that he'd nearly destroyed, he begged, "Forgive me." His words were muffled against the top of her head where he was pressing one kiss after another to her hair. Hell, she should leave him for this alone, if only to get away from a guy who wanted too much from her, who needed more from her than anyone else ever had. "I shouldn't ask you to forgive me again, not when I promised never to screw up like I did that first night, but I can't stop myself from asking. And I can't stop hoping that you will."

  She turned her face up to his so that his next kiss landed on her mouth instead of her hair. "I already have. Especially since I should have waited until you were ready to show the pictures to me and talk about them, too." She slid one hand up between their chests and laid it over his racing heart. "I..." He could see that she was nervous about what she was about to say. "I care so much about you. So, so much, Sean."

  He badly wanted to tell her what he'd realized last night--that he was in love with her. So in love that he could hardly think straight anymore. But he'd already done enough to screw things up for one morning. If she didn't feel the same way, if she wasn't yet ready to move from caring about him to loving him...hell, the last thing he needed to do at this point was risk pushing her even further away by coming on too strong.

  Still, for all that he was trying to hold back so that he didn't scare her, when he said, "You're amazing," the two simple words came out so strong, so raw, that he knew he wasn't hiding much at all from her.

  When her lips found his at the same time his took hers, their kiss was more passionate, more intense, than he'd ever known a kiss could be. Her mouth on his tangled his senses, made him ache way down deep in the center of his chest.

  "Please," she whispered against his lips. "Please don't stop with just a kiss today. Not when I need you so badly. Not when I need to know that we're still real and that nothing has changed because both of us are sorry and both of us are forgiven, too."

  Needing all the same things, he captured her mouth in another searing, mind-bending kiss. Gripping the bottom of her sweatshirt and her T-shirt and her bra all together in his fists, he yanked at them so roughly that he nearly tore them as he pulled them over her head. And then...sweet Lord...she was standing there in front of him, bared from the waist up and so shockingly beautiful that the final threads of sanity he'd been trying to hold on to were lost in a rush of desire so strong it actually did take him to his knees.

  "Serena." He whispered her name in the exact moment he took her nipple onto his tongue. His hands cupped, caressed, teased her breasts even as his mouth took, feasted, craved.

  "Please," she begged again, breathless now as she threaded her fingers into his hair and arched into his mouth. "Oh God, please don't stop."

  No. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. Didn't ever want to stop kissing her. Didn't ever want to stop tasting her. All he wanted to do was claim her as his. Only his. Not only today. Not just this morning. But over and over and over again.

  Forever.

  He moved his attention to her other breast and licked over her with deliberate slowness, knowing that if he didn't force himself to take his time, he'd later regret not savoring every single second. Not just of getting to be with her, but getting to be her first.

  He knew by now that she'd never been with another guy...because she wouldn't have trusted anyone the way she trusted him.

  Earn it. He swore again to himself that he would earn her trust. Even more so in the aftermath of having lashed out and hurt her just minutes earlier. She'd just forgiven him again, and he'd make damn sure she wouldn't regret opening herself up to him. That she wouldn't regret being there for him. And that she wouldn't regret staying.

  He'd always made sure to stop them before things went too far. But today, the boundaries had shifted. Far enough that he wouldn't stop at the edge today, but would take her all the way over it. No matter what else happened, he'd make sure she knew pleasure. The deep, amazing pleasure that she deserved...and that he was so damned lucky she trusted him to give her.

  Finally rising from his knees, he kissed her long and deep before pulling back to look into her eyes. Just as he had every time they were together, he needed to make absolutely sure that he wasn't moving too fast.

  "Is it too much?"

  "No. God, no. It isn't nearly enough."

  He slowly moved his hands to the top of her jeans. "What about this?" He slid the button out of its hole. "Will this be too much? Because I'll stop if you need me to."

  On a little frustrated growl that shot straight to his groin, she slid her hands from his hair to cover his over her zipper, and yanked it down. The next thing he knew, she was shimmying out of her jeans...and was standing before him in nothing but little white lace panties, at once both totally innocent and the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

  "I can't think when I'm looking at you," he confessed in a half-whisper, half-groan. "I need a second to get a grip."

  But instead of giving him a chance to pull himself together, she put her thumbs in the slim sides of the lace that barely covered her. "I've wanted this with you since that first night. Since our first kiss."

  "I have, too," he told her, but he still made himself cover her hands with his so that she had to hold the lace up against her hips rather than pull it down. Because once she was naked...

  When she realized he wouldn't let her strip off her underwear, she looked up at him with equal parts frustration and desperate lust. "Then why haven't you? You've been so gentle, given me so much space and room it's nearly driven me completely crazy. Especially knowing that you've done this with so many other girls, but not with me."

  "You're not like the others, Serena. You'll never be like the others." She made him want to be a better man. "You're special. You need to know how special you are."

  "You've always made me feel special." She shifted her hands beneath his so that they were palm to palm. "Always. Even that first night, the way you held me, the way you kissed me, the way you looked at me...I'd never felt like that with anyone else."

  This time when they kissed, there was more than just need. More than just desire. More than just desperate lust. And when he touched her, when he made her come, he knew it wouldn't just be about giving her physical pleasure...it would be about making her happy in ways and places that even the best sex in the world couldn't reach.

  Still kissing her, he slid his arms around her shoulders and beneath her legs, then lifted her. He felt her smile against his mouth, loved the soft sound of her happiness as she laughed in his arms while he carried her over to the bed. But after he laid her down and finally slid the lace from her hips and down her legs, never once did his gaze leave her eyes. Not until she put her hand over his and slid it up her bare thigh to her hip bone.

  Knowing that she was finally giving him permission to touch her made him feel like his heart was going to rip out of his chest, it was beating so hard. "Show me," he begged her. "Show me what you want. Show me what you need."

  His name was on her lips as she slid both of their hands over her sex. The moment he caressed her slick, hot flesh, her breath left her lungs in a hard rush, her free arm clinging tightly to him as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

  "So soft." He barely knew what he was saying, just that he had to tell her what touching her like this did to him. "So wet." He had to slide one finger down over her once, then twice, then a third time. "So perfect."

  She pulled him even more tightly against herself, trembling from the force of trying to get closer to his hand
as he stroked her. "I've dreamt of you coming for me," he whispered against her ear. "Of how you'd sound. Of how you'd feel." He nipped at her earlobe. "And of how you'd beg me to make you just keep coming, again and again and again."

  "Oh God. I feel--" She didn't finish her sentence, but the way she opened her thighs even wider for him, then bucked up into his touch, told him exactly how she was feeling.

  Tangling his free hand in her hair, he pulled her head back, gently, but far enough that her eyes met his. "I need to see you," he ground out from lungs that felt like they'd never be able to take in enough oxygen ever again. At least not when Serena's naked body was wrapped around his. "I need to know that everything I do, that everything we do together, feels good."

  "Good," she gasped against his lips a beat before he covered hers to pour all of his pent-up, barely controlled need into a kiss. "So, so good."

  Her eyes were dilated nearly to black when he finally allowed himself to slip one finger inside.

  "Oh!" The sound caught in her throat, and broke into several pieces as he slowly moved over her clitoris, then just as slowly slid back inside. "Oh God."

  He built the rhythm as deliberately as he could given his wild, insane need to make her come apart beneath him. Soon, she was rocking against him, growing even wetter, even hotter, so that he almost forgot to be careful, almost forgot not to tear off his own clothes and just take.

  But he would never let himself forget that this morning was about Serena. About showing her pleasure. And even more important, proving to her that she could trust him--that she wasn't wrong to have forgiven him for doing and saying all the wrong things.

  Between the breathy little sounds she was making and the way her inner muscles were clenching around his finger, he knew she was close. Brushing back the hair from her face, he cupped her cheek gently in one hand as he played over her with the other.

  "Come for me, beautiful."

  Her eyes had fluttered nearly closed before they suddenly flared open with so much pleasure that it floored him to watch her give herself over so completely, so incredibly, not just to her climax...but, amazingly, to him, too.