Sexy Living by Regina Cole (30)

The pungent scent of permanent marker filled the living room once again as Stacey uncapped the writing implement. Gripping the lid in her teeth, she wrote BOOKS on the side of the storage box. Recapping the pen, she shoved it in her pocket, and then hefted the box. She stacked it with the others along the wall nearest the door.

Propping her hands on her hips, she looked around her living room.

The surfaces and walls were bare now. Her couch and coffee table would be going to Hannah’s place as soon as Hannah could borrow her brother’s pickup truck, probably tomorrow. She’d spoken to her landlord, and since she only had another month on her lease, he’d agreed to let her out of it early. Being a model tenant who always paid on time certainly had paid off.

Despite what she’d told Brandi, she did have an idea of where to go. Back home with her tail tucked between her legs. As much as she hated the idea, being close to Sabrina was worth the pain of having to see her parents more often. Bree was the buffer zone that had gotten her through high school until she could escape to college in Georgia. And honestly, Stacey was worried about her cousin. She wasn’t acting as happy and in love as Stacey had presumed she would be. Maybe helping Bree through her relationship woes could help Stacey forget her own.

Straightening her ponytail, Stacey collapsed on the couch to catch her breath. Her cell phone, balanced on the arm of the couch beside her, caught her eye.

A million times since she’d signed that cancelation at the gym, she’d debated calling him. Texting him. Sending a damn carrier pigeon. Hoofing it to Charlotte. Anything to find out exactly how badly she’d hurt him and to see if there was any way possible of gaining his forgiveness.

She traced the dark screen with her fingernail. Not knowing what to do, she’d erred on the side of protecting herself. Silence. The only texts to come through her phone were from Sabrina:

And then from Hannah:

A few texts from other friends, and one from her mom, laced with just enough shame and backhanded compliments to make Stacey shudder. But none from the one man she wanted to hear from most in the world.

Her fingers curled around the phone and she closed her eyes, wishing for knowledge. Inspiration. The idea of what to do, the right thing to do. Without second-guessing this time, she opened the dark screen and sent him a text.

She paused in her typing, staring at the window to her left.

He’d stood there. Naked. Silhouetted by the streetlight the one time they’d been together in her apartment. She’d never gotten the chance to show him the change he’d made in her self-esteem. And that was one of her biggest regrets.

Shaking her head internally, she turned her attention back to the phone.

Before she could change her mind, she tapped the SEND button, and watched the progress bar light up blue. There. Sent. Her words were on their way to him, and nothing she could do would snatch them back.

She didn’t want to take them back.

As much as she’d love to scan through her texts and relive every moment she’d had with Rob, she really needed to continue packing. Placing her phone back on the arm of the couch, she stood, scrutinizing the rest of the apartment.

The kitchen was going to be a bitch to pack. She should probably get started on it now. There weren’t enough boxes to finish it, but maybe in the morning she could go by the liquor store and see if they had any more—

Her doorbell rang and derailed her train of thought. Frowning, she stared at it.

Hannah wouldn’t be off work yet. Maybe Tasha, her neighbor? No, Tash was at class on Wednesday afternoons. Her landlord’s teenage daughter had mentioned stopping by to lend a hand with packing, maybe . . .

Stacey swung the door open, and her heart stopped.

There, on the welcome mat she hadn’t yet packed, with his phone lit up in his hand, stood Rob.

“I’m here,” he said simply, tapping the text on the screen. “I’d love to see the light you mentioned.”

Maybe it was the sadness. Or the desperation. Or the certainty she’d had that she would never, ever see him again, never get the chance to show him what he meant to her. But the hesitation was gone. She could no more stop herself from flying into his arms than she could stop herself from loving him. Both were an impossibility.

She clung to him, and her tears overflowed. His big, strong arms wrapped around her, and when she could breathe again, she felt him shudder slightly. Hugging him tightly, she willed every bit of love and comfort she had into his strong body, which still lined up with hers more perfectly than she even remembered.

His heart thumped against her cheek, his warmth bled into her, and with the beautiful scent of him filling her nostrils, Stacey finally felt what she’d been missing ever since that phone call that had made her doubt everything.

Home. When Rob was with her, she felt at home. And now, even though everything had gone wrong, somehow she knew that things would be all right. How could they not?

Her love was there and holding her once more.

* * *

Rob held Stacey tightly.

He couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to his eyes as the delicious feeling of her in his arms registered. There was just too much emotion. The loss of his dad, the sight of her standing there, so beautiful, and yes, a little of the hurt that she hadn’t been at his side for the entire ordeal. But it didn’t matter. She was here now, and in his arms, and that was the way things would stay if he had anything to say about it.

She pulled back, and he wasn’t surprised to see there were tears in her eyes, too.

“Why didn’t you text me?”

He threaded his fingers through hers. “Let’s go inside.”

Stacey looked past him then, and finally seemed to notice that her neighbors were watching. She waved and backed into the apartment, and Rob followed, never letting go of her hand.

As the door shut behind them, he pulled her into his arms again. He didn’t want to let her go, not now, not ever.

“I was so worried about you. When I went to the gym and Brandi told me you didn’t want to train me anymore, I thought—”

“I know. That was my fault. I’d vented to Brandi a little, and, well—I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve left and come with you anyway.” She sniffed. “How are things?”

“My father died.”

She looked up into his eyes then. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.” She reached up and put her hand on his cheek. “And I wasn’t there for you. You must hate me.”

He reached up and caught her hand, bringing it down to his chest. “I could never hate you. That’s in the past now, and all that matters is what we do going forward.”

He leaned down and caught her lips in a kiss, pouring all of the feelings inside him into that one, sweet, simple gesture. She responded passionately, twining her arms around his neck and opening her mouth to him. He tasted her depths, tongue swirling over hers, tasting, touching, breathing in every part of her.

His hands moved down her back to cup her ass, bringing her high and hard against him. His blood was hot, surging through his veins as he sought to purge the bad memories with her.

She twined her fingers in his hair, tugging, the delicious pain fanning the flames of his passion. She was so soft, so perfect against him, and it was like they had never been apart.

He pushed her backward toward the couch, and as they fell in a tangle of limbs, her laugh wrapped delight around his heart. “I missed you,” she whispered against his ear as his kisses trailed down her neck. “I missed this.”

“You’ll never have to miss me again, because I’m never going to let you out of my sight.” His teeth grazed her collarbone, and she shivered. The reaction hardened him further, made him want to rip her clothes off and immediately sink into her delicious, wet warmth.

He reached underneath her shirt and his fingertips wandered their way up her belly, then her ribs, memorizing each centimeter of skin along the way. Threading his fingertips beneath her bra’s band, he relished the feel of the softness of her skin. She moaned, arching her back a little as he moved his hands behind her. He brushed against the catch of her bra.

“Let me,” she said, then sat upright and reached behind her.

He sat on the edge of the couch and watched as she unhooked her bra. Then she stopped.

His breath paused in his throat, and he waited. He knew what was coming next. What she would say, how she would look sheepish, a bit embarrassed, but the clear need would be written across her beautiful features. And he wouldn’t deny her. He would go, and he would love her in the dark. If that was what she needed, if that was the only way he could have her, then he would love her with the lights off for the rest of their lives.

But she reached down and grasped the hem of her T-shirt. In one smooth motion, she pulled it over her head. Then he watched with disbelief as she slipped the bra straps from her shoulders and let the lacy white undergarment hit the floor.

Hands fisted at her sides, her face a study in concentration, passion, in the tiniest hint of fear, she stared at him as if daring him to comment.

He was stunned. Deliciously, wonderfully stunned.

“I—” She hesitated, then cleared her throat, color climbing up her cheeks. “I want you to see me.”

“Stacey.” He reached for her, gathering her into his arms, tucking her close to his chest. “You are so beautiful.”

In the late afternoon light, her skin was incredible. Peaches and cream, softness all over, he watched his hands move over places they had only known in darkness before. The skin of her back, the sweet curve of her hips, all the way around to the softness of her belly, the fullness of her beautiful breasts that he had seen only once before.

He touched her everywhere, leaving no portion of her skin unseen, and through it all she kept her gaze glued on his face. He knew she was waiting for judgment, for disgust, for any kind of negative emotion. But she wouldn’t find it from him. He found every square inch of her beautiful.

Once he had seen her, touched her, it wasn’t enough. His lips followed where his fingers had quested, kissing from shoulders, chest, to the sweet tips of her puckered pink nipples. He loved looking up at her and seeing her lips part as he grazed the tip of her breasts with his teeth, so gently.

Her brilliant blue eyes were alive with passion, and finally, finally, he could see her react to him. Could worship the body he’d come to know through touch. Could truly connect with the woman whom he loved.

“Rob, I want you so much.”

“I want you too,” he said as his erection stretched the confines of his cotton briefs.

“Come on.” She stood then, and held out her hand to him. “Let’s go to my bedroom.”