Chapter Twenty-Two

Holy crap, this is really happening.

Mark Matthews, the man who’d once told her he had no desire for relationships, or love, or anything real, was in her apartment, telling her he loved her and asking her to love him back.

Silly man, didn’t he see she already loved him?

If not, how could he have messed her up so badly when he told her he was done with her? She was terrified to let him in again, to give him this chance he was asking for, but even more terrified that if she didn’t, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. The way Mark made her feel, the way he made her laugh, was special. It was a one of a kind, once in a lifetime thing.

She’d loved William with all her heart and always would.

But with Mark, it was different. It was like he was a piece of her, one that had been missing all along, and now she felt empty when he wasn’t there with her, making her roll her eyes at him and laugh at his corny jokes. He was a part of her, and she was a piece of him, and nothing would ever change that. Not anger. Not fear. Not heartbreak.

They were meant to be.

It was why they felt so right from the very start.

Because they were.

His hands on her waist faltered, and he nodded, stepping back. “All right. I’ll go. Just know that I love you, Daisy, and I’ll always love you. If you change your mind, I’ll be here. Waiting. I’ll never stop waiting for you.”

“Wait.” She caught his hand. “I hate you, you know.”

He winced, but nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

“No, you don’t get it. I hate you. Like, passionately. Violently. I curse your name at night, when I’m in bed alone. I think about you and a rage fills me that nothing can compare to.”

He stood completely still, staring straight ahead.

“Lauren once told me the only way to hate someone that much…” She licked her lips and touched his cheek. “Was if you loved them first. Passionately. Violently. Completely.”

He froze, mouth parted, and stared.

“So, yeah, I hate you because you made me love you. I swore I’d never let another man hold so much power over me that losing him would kill me, but you did it. You made me care about something besides my job. You brought me out of my shell and forced me to live. Losing you…it killed me. It’s still killing me. I miss you. I miss the way you hold me. I miss your laugh. Your smile. The way you stare at something with complete and utter concentration when you’re focused. I miss your determination. Your stubbornness. The way you smell. But most of all, I miss the way you kiss me like I’m the only girl alive. The way you make me feel when you touch me.” She touched her heart. “Here. Just like you. I feel it. The emptiness. The pain. The loss. I don’t want to feel it anymore.”

He opened his hands then fisted them at his sides. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

“I’m saying that I love you, too. You’re the best mistake I’ve ever made, too, Mark.” She held her arms out. “You want to know what I want from you? I’ll tell you. I want all the things you do. The kisses. The laughs. The hugs. The family. The fireplace. Ginny. Happiness. You. Me. Together forever. I want that. I want it all.”

“Then it’s yours,” he rasped, his voice raw and broken and real. “It’s all yours.”

He closed the distance between them, picked her up, hauled her into his arms, and hugged her so tightly she couldn’t even hug him back—and she didn’t even care. He was here, and he was holding her, and for the first time in four days, she could breathe. He pulled back, staring down at her with wonder. “I love you, Daisy O’Rourke.”

She cupped his face. “I love you, too, Mark Matthews.”

He let out a passionate, authoritative growl, and his mouth met hers. He claimed her, heart, body, and soul, and she took it all from him, too, as he backed her up to the couch, gently lowering her to it. He covered her body with his, and she gasped, wrapping herself around him as tightly as possible. And she was never letting go. Not ever again.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent, and slid his hand between her legs. She only had on a thin pair of panties and a dress, so not much stood in his way. He shoved them aside, and teased the entrance. His thumb circled around her, making her breath hitch in her throat. “So ready. So mine.”

She nodded and lifted her face to his.

He gave her what she wanted.

Their mouths touched again, and his tongue found hers instantly. She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair, and he inserted two fingers inside of her, twisting them just right. She lifted her hips, writhing against him, and he massaged her with his thumb as their tongues dueled. It hadn’t been that long since they’d been together—days, really—and they’d only known each other a short time, but the intensity soaring between them was no less real, or strong, because of it.

When he’d been gone, it was like she was asleep, walking through life with her eyes half open and her mind half awake. But then he came back, and he touched her, and everything was better. Everything was whole. She was wide awake, and she needed him with a passion that could no longer be denied. She didn’t want to. Not anymore.

His fingers moved inside her, each stroke bringing her closer and closer to the precipice, until finally she was there. The world was exploding, and pleasure made her drop back limply to the couch with a long, exhausted moan. He undid his pants and pulled his zipper down, freeing his cock from his boxers, and positioned himself between her legs.

“I love you so damn much, and I want to make slow, passionate love to you tonight. But right now?” He nipped her neck, leaving a stinging bite mark behind. “I need to fuck you.”

She nodded frantically, digging her nails into the soft flesh of his ass. “Yes. God, yes.”

With a territorial growl, his mouth slammed on hers again, and he thrust inside her in one long, hard, deep stroke. She cried out, her body spasming around his in an orgasm, and he continued to move inside her, dragging her along up another hill, and then another, and another, until she was shaking and tears were running down her cheeks, and if he made her come again, she would die. But then he did it. He reached between them, pressed his fingers against her, and then thrust inside her so deep she saw stars, and the moon, and unicorns, and every other mythical thing out there, because he did it. He killed her. Death by orgasm.

And it was frigging amazing.

He moaned and stiffened, spurting inside her with one last thrust before he collapsed on top of her. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his skin on hers, the scent of his cologne teasing her nostrils, his crisp shirt digging into her soft stomach, his erection still hard and buried inside her. All of these things, all of these memories, were the ones that haunted her the most when he’d been gone. The little moments. The little things.

And that had been when she realized she loved him.

When his absence haunted her.

He kissed the side of her neck, letting out a soft chuckle. “You still alive down there, love?”

“Love?” She smiled sleepily. “That’s a new one.”

“It felt right.”

“Where’s Ginny? Do we need to go back to your place?” she asked, yawning.

“She’s with my mom, because of the wedding. I swear, I have to tackle Ginny away from her most nights.” He pushed off her and stood, offering her his hand. “But she’ll be back in the morning. Come home with me? Meet my mom tomorrow?”

Her pulse leaped, but she smiled and slid her hand into his anyway. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” He buttoned his pants back up, and she redressed, too, sliding her panties back into place and smoothing her dress over her stomach. As she fixed herself, he crossed the room and picked up the present he’d brought with him. It was wrapped in yellow paper. “Hey, before we go, open this.”

She eyed it, biting down on her lip. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“You gave me everything. You gave me you.” He held it out. “I bought this last week, but I was waiting for it to arrive. It’s just something I knew you’d like. Something small.”

Grinning, she took it, her pulse racing with excitement. She hadn’t gotten a present like this, for no reason, in a long time. William hadn’t been big on them, and her birthday was coming up, so it had been a long time since she opened something up. She tore the wrapping paper off and stared down at the book with her mouth open.

“Hamilton: The Revolution,” she whispered, blinking away the moistness in her eyes. “The book that Lin Manuel wrote about the musical. You got me this?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I did. I saw this online, and I had to get it for you.”

“That’s…you…” She’d mentioned wanting to see the play in passing, one night, a while ago, and he remembered. He went out and bought her the book. That was so sweet, and perfect, and so very Mark. If she’d had any doubts before, then they would have been dispelled now. Here. With him watching her nervously for her reaction. “Thank you. I love it.”

“And I love you.” He smiled and held out a card that had fallen on the floor. “And there’s a card, too.”

She ripped it open. “Is it going to be sentimental, or funny? Because I’ll be honest, if it’s sappy, I…might…” Laugh. That’s what she’d been about to say. But he’d gone and stolen the words right out of her mouth. “Oh. My. God.”

He grinned, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. “They’re not until next year, but I saw they were on sale, so I jumped on—mmf.”

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off, because she jumped on him, kissing him passionately as tears ran down her cheeks. He kissed her back, chuckling when she buried her hands in his hair, pushed him back on the couch, and straddled him.

He let out a groan when she lowered herself onto him, her mouth not leaving his. He mumbled something, and she pulled back. “What?” she asked.

“I said, all this for tickets to watch some dudes sing?” He grinned, pressing his thumb to her swollen lips. “If this is the reaction I get, then I’ll buy you tickets to anything, everything, anytime you want. It’s yours. Just name it.”

“You. I want you.”

“Already yours,” he whispered, his voice full of promise. “Forever and always.”

“I like the sound of that…” she whispered back.

“Me too, Daisy,” he said, bringing her face back down to his for a kiss. “Me, too.”