Beautiful Secret Page 107

One minute he was two feet from me and the next he was against me and I was against the side of his building, lifted from the ground with his arms around my waist. I gasped, staring up at him. Niall was looking down at me with a dark intensity that made my chest squeeze painfully.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” I whispered, my throat growing nearly too tight to speak. “I missed you.”

His face fell as he searched my eyes one more time and then he bent, pressing his face to my neck. His mouth . . . oh, God, with the deepest groan my favorite mouth in the world was on my neck and my jaw and I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t stop the tight lump from rising higher in my throat.

“Niall . . .”

He spoke into my skin, “Darling, say it again. I’m not sure I can believe this is real.”

Through a sob, I managed, “I love you.”

In a pulse of panic, I didn’t know if this was actually happening, either, or I had fallen asleep on his stairs and was having the world’s best dream. But then his lips were moving again: on my jaw, my cheek, and then pressing to mine—the best kind of soft, the best kind of hard—and I choked out another cry as I felt his tongue slide inside and his sounds vibrated against me as he groaned into his kisses.

With a desperate sort of babble, he gave me his broken thoughts built of my name, and that he missed me so bloody much, that things had been hell, that he thought he’d never see me again. He cupped my face and his kisses alternated between tiny and hard, soft and sucking, and then his thumbs were sweeping at my face and I knew I was a sobbing mess, but I honestly couldn’t find it in me to care.

“You’re coming inside,” he growled, moving his mouth from mine and over to my ear. “You’re staying with me.”

“Yes.”

“Tonight. And every night after.”

I nodded, smiling as I pressed my face to his neck. “Well. Until I move to Oxford.”

Pulling back, he let his eyes move over my face. “Yeah? You got your letter from Maggie, then?”

“I got it last week. I wanted to call you.”

He smiled a little, seeming to be unable to stop looking at me, even to blink. “You should have.”

“I figured I wanted to see you more, so I did that instead.”

With a little nod, he looked down, intertwining our fingers. “It’s late. You’ve been sitting here for a long time. Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I just want to . . .”

“Get into my bed?” His voice was a gentle growl.

I whispered, “Yeah. Unless you need to eat.”

“No. No chance I’m stopping to eat first.”

It was really that simple, and there wasn’t even a trace of hesitation. I knew I needed to feel him. I needed to be covered in him.

He turned and led me back to his steps and I followed him inside, up the next flight, and to his front door. He pulled me in front of him, pressing my back to the door as he bent to kiss my jaw. “We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Okay.”

His teeth scraped at my neck. “Good, because I know we need to talk. But right now I want to put my mouth on you and sing ‘God Save the Queen.’ ”

Finally, a laugh burst from my throat. Oh, the relief of this. I nearly started crying again. “I think you could lose your citizenship for that.”

“It would be worth it, though. Kissing you between your legs is like kissing your mouth but softer somehow.”

I was tingling from my mouth to my toes. How was it so easy to get back to this place? “Bonus: I orgasm when you kiss me there.”

Niall pulled back and gave me a look of mock scandal. “You mean to tell me you don’t orgasm from my kisses to your mouth?”

“It’s been a little while. Maybe you should try?”

He growled with a predatory smile and here—here—was my playful, sexy man. The version of him only I would get. The world would get his calm, contained exterior. I would get the one here, who reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, before reaching behind me as he simultaneously bent to kiss me. His hand fumbled with the lock and we laughed against each other’s mouth, teeth knocking, sloppy kissing.

I heard the lock give and his groan of relief as he nibbled at my bottom lip.

“Don’t fucking leave me again,” he said, out of breath as his hand hovered on the doorknob. “It was bloody miserable, Ruby.”

“I didn’t leave you.” I pulled back to meet his eyes. “You did. So if we’re . . .” I shook my head. “Don’t ever go back to Portia.”

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