I cup her cheek in my palm and tilt my head to the side. When I’m within an inch of her mouth, I pause. “Does this mean we’re not on a break anymore?”

“Do you actually need to ask that question?”

“I want to be clear about what kind of kiss this is going to be.”

“Ethan.”

“Is this our back-together kiss?”

“As opposed to what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a test kiss for you.”

“A test kiss?”

“Uh-huh, to see if you’re as interested in pre-pre-game stress relief as you think you are.”

“I’ve already expressed my interest.”

“But is that all you’re interested in? I need to know exactly what’s at stake with this kiss so I can strategize my approach.”

“This isn’t a hockey game, Ethan. It’s a kiss, which will hopefully also lead to some scoring.” Her luscious lips turn up at her bad pun.

I breathe a laugh as she grabs my shirt and attempts to connect our mouths. I cup her face between my hands and sit up on my knees, tilting her head back. She rises with me, fingers circling my wrists. With my thumb I skim the curve of her bottom lip and watch them part. Her eyes stay on mine as I bend to kiss her chin. She whimpers, annoyed.

“Tell me I’m yours,” I whisper.

“You’re mine.” Her eyes search mine, soft and wanting. “And I’m yours.”

“Yes. Mine.” I drop my head, lips brushing over hers before I pull back again. “Always.”

The sound that falls from her lips is half need, half frustration. I understand it, share it even. I want to wrap my arms around her; I want to feel her body against mine, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her touch. These weeks without her have been a painful eternity. I’m not sure how I survived eight years. But I also want to savor this moment because this is a new first kiss. This is the one that marks the beginning of our forever. Because I’m never letting her go again.

When I close the space between us, Lilah’s lips are already parted, so I stroke inside her mouth in a slow, shallow sweep before pulling back. She tries to follow, but I hold her still. “Do you remember when all we used to do was kiss?”

“Why’re we still talking?”

“Do you?”

“Of course I remember. I’d be so worked up, dying for something else to happen, but I had no idea what.”

I would’ve humped a tree back then. I’d wanted to put my hands all over her, touch every part of her body that she’d let me, but I hadn’t ever wanted to push. Now I do. I want to claim back what’s always been mine, and I’m fighting with myself to take it slow. “Is that how you feel right now?”

“Yes, but I know what’s going to happen next.”

I suck her bottom lip, nipping gently. “You think so?”

She drops a hand, stroking me through my pants. “Definitely.”

I bite back a groan, hoping to stay in control a little longer. It’s been weeks since I’ve been inside her, surrounded in the feel, the smell, the taste of her. “Want to tell me?”

“You’re going to tease me like you do, get me all excited, and then you’re going to love me, probably for several hours, with short intermissions.”

“This is one of the many reasons why we belong together.”

She grins. “Because I’m sexually psychic?”

I laugh. “I’m taking you upstairs.” I lift her and she wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom.

We take our time undressing, touches soft and reverent. Her bra is lacy and pale, feminine and pretty. She’s always been such a delicious temptation. That hasn’t changed at all with time. I thread one hand into her hair, the other skimming her breast, following the edge of her bra until I can flick the clasp open. I trace her nipple before I trail a path to her hip, memorizing her body all over again. Hooking my fingers into the waist of her pants, I pull them down, exposing the matching panties.

“I missed you. It was hard to give you space.”

“It was hard to take it.”

Lilah’s hands move over my shoulders, one curving around the back of my neck, the other smoothing down my spine. I drop my head to kiss her again. Her tongue meets mine, pushing back, sweeping inside my mouth. This isn’t like the sweet kisses of youth, or the desperate reunion after years of separation and lost time found again. This is reacquainting under the promise of something new.

Laying her down on the bed, I fit myself between her legs and stretch out over her. She hooks her ankles behind my back, and tongues and teeth clash as gentleness wanes, replaced by aching need, the fallout of deprivation.

Lilah groans, fingers sifting through my hair and gripping hard. “Roll over.”

I push up on one arm. “Why?”

“So I can be on top and you can see me.”

I flip onto my back, taking her with me. She uses my chest to brace herself, sliding over my erection through the barrier of satin and my pants. They need to go.

I settle my palms against the dip in her waist, just above her hips, thumbs brushing under her ribs. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Says the professional hockey player with the body of a god.” Her fingertips trail over my chest and down my stomach. The muscles twitch and flex with the touch.