He didn't want to tense up again like this. But Amber had blindsided him, held up a mirror that he wasn't ready to look in, and Foreman felt edgy and trapped. The only thing he'd meant by it was I like you. I care about you, but he had no clue what it meant that he felt so much, so soon.
Amber stood up and turned to him. Foreman kept his weight back on his heels, uncertain. Her face was flushed, sweat glowing on her chest and at her temples, and her eyes were still dilated. As if everything was still perfect. Foreman played her words back over, remembering the low, amused way she'd spoken. Amber hadn't been thinking, hadn't been judging him. She'd been speaking lazily, not to laugh at him but just to express how he'd made her feel. More reassuring than that, though, was her immediate step closer, reaching out to touch him. None of the rejection he expected if she wasn't comfortable or if he'd said too much.
Foreman closed his eyes and accepted her kiss, pursing his lips to echo the lightness of it. He circled Amber's waist with his arms, hugging her close, bringing her warmth back to his. "Good," he murmured, turning his face into the side of her throat. Kissing her, gently, only enough to taste the saltiness of the skin just over her jugular, before he spoke again. "Because if you're going to be that damn gorgeous, I might say it again."
He could relax now. Eyelids drooping, mouth parted slightly as he breathed Amber's scent, arms lax at her waist where he was holding her, he realized, in a distant way, that everything he'd needed had happened. Amber had helped him escape, forget. Feelings of contentment, low remains of pleasure, and most of all, the desire to be near to Amber, like this, all night--they took precedence, leaving no room for any of his embarrassment or anger that came from explaining about Marcus. God, it was so good. Being with Amber. Letting go with her, for her. He smiled, slowly, pressing his cheek against hers. "Don't you have a bed around here somewhere?"
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Amber stood up and turned to him. Foreman kept his weight back on his heels, uncertain. Her face was flushed, sweat glowing on her chest and at her temples, and her eyes were still dilated. As if everything was still perfect. Foreman played her words back over, remembering the low, amused way she'd spoken. Amber hadn't been thinking, hadn't been judging him. She'd been speaking lazily, not to laugh at him but just to express how he'd made her feel. More reassuring than that, though, was her immediate step closer, reaching out to touch him. None of the rejection he expected if she wasn't comfortable or if he'd said too much.
Foreman closed his eyes and accepted her kiss, pursing his lips to echo the lightness of it. He circled Amber's waist with his arms, hugging her close, bringing her warmth back to his. "Good," he murmured, turning his face into the side of her throat. Kissing her, gently, only enough to taste the saltiness of the skin just over her jugular, before he spoke again. "Because if you're going to be that damn gorgeous, I might say it again."
He could relax now. Eyelids drooping, mouth parted slightly as he breathed Amber's scent, arms lax at her waist where he was holding her, he realized, in a distant way, that everything he'd needed had happened. Amber had helped him escape, forget. Feelings of contentment, low remains of pleasure, and most of all, the desire to be near to Amber, like this, all night--they took precedence, leaving no room for any of his embarrassment or anger that came from explaining about Marcus. God, it was so good. Being with Amber. Letting go with her, for her. He smiled, slowly, pressing his cheek against hers. "Don't you have a bed around here somewhere?"