I take the few steps to get to her, and then lift her chin with my finger.

The tears in her eyes cloak the uncertainty behind them.

Her chest rises when mine falls

She exhales.

I inhale.

She takes.

I give.

She pushes out a breath.

I pull one in.

So here we are—taking each other’s breaths away.

My gaze drops to her mouth—her bottom lip quivers with each release.

I look back into her eyes.

“Ky?” Her voice echoes in my mind, playing havoc with my heart.

It’s just like her knocks.

Quiet.

Timid.

And then it happens.

That final gasp of breath before I can no longer breathe without her knowing the truth. “I…” Love you. Say it!

I can’t.

But I don’t have to.

“I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”

Our mouths crash together, frantic at first, and then after a beat...imperfectly perfect. My body covers hers—my hands everywhere all at once, matching hers.

And then, in sync, we slow down.

Maybe both of us know that this isn’t like the other times. We aren’t driven by lust—or by our physical need to be together. This is so much more.

More than I ever expected.

And I know it now—that I was wrong.

I wasn’t waiting for her to be ready.

She was waiting for me.

And I’m finally ready to give her everything.

I pull away, intent on telling her how I feel.

But the words are caught—not in my throat—but in my heart.

So I do the next best thing. I place my hand on her chest, covering her heart.

She looks up at me—eyes wide and waiting.

“Madison,” I whisper, “I exist in here.”

MADISON

I can’t recall ever seeing magic. Not in person—and not on TV. So it made me wonder how I knew what it was—or how it was supposed to make me feel.

But when Ky Parker places his palm on my chest—holding my heart in his hand—I somehow knew.

I felt it.

Magic.

And magic, at least for me, was undeniably, unequivocally, real.

24

KY

SHE TAKES MY hand and leads me to the bedroom, the same room we’ve spent so many nights together. But we both know that tonight’s different.

It’s the beginning of a new existence.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands twisting on her lap. “I’m scared,” she says.

I sit next to her. “Of what?”

“Everything.” She turns to me. “I’m scared of feeling too much—of wanting too much.”

I watch as tears pool in her eyes. She tries to breathe through it, but the air’s too thick. I know—because I feel it, too.

I reach up to cup her face, my thumb wiping at her tears. “You have no reason to be scared, Maddy.” I kiss her once. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes flick between mine, carrying an emotion I can’t decipher. We stay that way, a thousand unanswered questions between us. But none of them matter. Not to me—and not to her—because when she leans forward and captures my mouth with hers—we become lost in the moment. And in each other.

I gently push on her shoulders until she’s on her back and I’m resting on my elbows, looking down on her—kissing her—feeling her—wanting her—needing her.

My hand drifts down her body, past her breasts, her hips, and down her thighs until I feel the hem of her dress. Then I move up under the material and onto the softness of her thighs until my fingers meet the lace of her panties. She reaches down, pulling on my shirt, asking for permission.

I sit up slightly, just enough for her to pull it over my head. And then I’m back, my mouth on hers and my hands between her legs, moving her panties to the side. A gasp escapes her when my finger slides effortlessly inside. Her back arches, causing her head to tilt back away from our kiss. So I kiss her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, down to her chest—the entire time my finger causing her to moan—to grip the covers underneath her. “Ky...”

I kiss each breast, over her dress, and move down her stomach. Her fingers lace through my hair—her body writhing beneath me.

I stand up and remove my jeans and boxers in one swift move. Then I remain at the side of the bed and eye her from head to toe. “Your turn.”

She sits up on her knees and smiles. “You do it.”

I smile back, taking a step forward and slowly lifting her dress over her head, and then her bra. I lean down, taking her nipple into my mouth while my thumb skims over the other. She pushes my head away after a long moment and scoots back on the bed so her head’s resting on a pillow. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me,” I assure, “as soon as I finish worshipping you.” I climb between her legs again, where I plan on finishing what I started. Her fingers find my hair the same time my tongue finds her clit.

“Oh god...”

I flatten my tongue at her entrance and do something I know drives her insane. Slowly, softly, I lick all the way from the bottom to the top.

Her hips jerk up. “Oh Jesus...”

I do it a few more times until her thighs tighten around my head—then I pull back. She looks down at me, confusion clear on her face.

“What are—”

I quickly drop my mouth back to her waiting pussy and suck hard.

“FUCK!”

I hear her panting, her thrusting hips matching the sounds. My hand reaches up, pushes one finger into her. She buckles beneath me. “Ky!”