25. Tammy

CHAPTER 25

TAMMY

My heart jumps into my throat, lodging in my airway and making it hard to breathe.

It's the sweetest sentiment, but the look on his face right now… it says so much more.

I see it again… just like I did the night I told him I was pregnant.

He wants me.

He's always wanted me.

And not just as a friend.

Was I blind back then? Or just too afraid to see it?

Placing my hand on his chest, I feel his heart thrumming beneath my touch.

A heart that belongs to me?

A heart that's always been mine?

My insides melt with warmth and affection, then start to simmer and heat the same way they did that afternoon at the swimming hole.

The difference is that I know what I'm doing now.

This isn't curiosity anymore. It's something stronger, bigger, more powerful.

More meaningful.

A soft breath wisps out between my lips as I lurch to the tips of my toes and, for the second time in my life… initiate a kiss that will change everything.

I'm so here for it.

This time I'm in. All the way.

The complicated shit in my life can disappear for a second.

I'm not afraid anymore.

Curling my fingers around the back of his neck, I pull Baxter down to meet me.

"Wait, wait, wait…" He jerks back before our lips can connect.

No! My insides wail, and I keep my hand on his neck, not willing to let go and lose this moment.

"You're married," he rasps. "Tammy, I can't go kissing you."

"I'm not." I shake my head, holding up my bare ring finger.

He frowns down at me in confusion, and I swear I see hope lighting his eyes when he takes my finger and rubs his thumb over the spot where my rings usually are. It still feels weird not wearing them all the time, but his soft touch is easing that tension.

My stomach trembles, my lips shaking as I admit, "I mean, technically, I still am, but that's only because I haven't figured out how to make it all official yet, but… I'm planning on asking Hudson for a divorce."

"Really?" His whisper is so soft, that hope like a sunrise dawning across his face. "You're leaving him for good?"

I nod, a tentative smile curling my lips, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I want to be yours."

And to prove it, I lurch for his mouth again.

There's no resistance this time, and his lips crush to mine like he's breaking a hunger strike.

The pressure is perfect—deep and beautiful.

We hold still against each other like we're soaking this in, like if we pull apart, the magic will shatter.

But then he eases back from me, his lips parting, his breath skimming my mouth before he glides his tongue against mine.

I meet him halfway, my soul releasing a satisfied sigh. This kiss is warm and inviting, hot and intoxicating.

Straining up on my toes, I cling to him, wanting to get closer. His hands grip my waist, fisting my sweater and tugging me until I'm fused against him.

My breasts rub his torso, the nipples hardening immediately. The intensity of my desire is overwhelming, and I can't hold back a soft moan, dragging my fingers through his hair as our tongues dance like they were born to tango.

Baxter splays his hand against my back, molding us together, then bends his knees, coming down to my level before lifting me off the ground and planting me on the kitchen counter.

A breath pops out of me, my erratic heart making me puffed and heady.

Baxter pulls away to look at my face, his eyes darting across me like he's trying to memorize every little feature. Like he still can't believe this is actually happening.

I smile with my eyes, my glistening lips barely curving as I brush my thumb down his neck.

He doesn't say anything, just tells me I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. Tells me I'm the only woman in the world without having to speak.

My chest pulses.

My ears start to buzz.

Heat pools between my legs, and I know I have to have him.

I'm pretty sure I'll die if I don't.

Dramatic? Yes.

Real? Hell yes.

It's not just a matter of want. I need him. I need to experience Baxter in this way. It's like my body's finally telling me what my brain was too stupid to hear.

All those years of unconscious pining.

All those nights I lay awake thinking about him and trying to convince myself I'd done the right thing.

But I hadn't.

I screwed up.

And I'm going to fix it.

Right here.

Right now.

A soft whimper punches out of me, emotions clogging my throat as I reach for him again, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into his butt.

The heat between us is searing, our tongues no longer a warm oasis but a scorching volcano.

My voracious hunger turns my kisses messy, and I don't even care.

I suck his lower lip, lick his jawline, nibble his earlobe.

His hands roam my back, his thumb skirting my boob before ducking away again. I want him to squeeze me, massage all my private places. I want him to make me come with his tongue. To push his fingers inside me. To glide his naked body over mine, then bury his cock so deep that I can feel him all the way to my soul.

Fisting his shirt, I tug it out of his jeans, freeing the fabric before scrambling for his belt buckle.

"Wait." Baxter jumps away from me, slapping his hand over the buckle and blinking at me.

He's panting, wide-eyed, and looks like I'm holding a shotgun to his head.

"What?" I breathe, my chest heaving.

Glancing down at his jeans, I can see his straining cock, and my insides weep with desire. My panties are wet with it, and I bite my lip, unable to control my lusty imagination.

"I…" Baxter lets out an awkward huff. "I can't."