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won’t let you leave. Please. I don’t think—” His words choke off and disappear into his throat.  
    I slide my cheek against his. The scratch of stubble grounds me.
    “You don’t think what?” I ask.
    “I don’t think I could bear losing you again.”
    “You won’t,” I whisper into his ear.
    “ You forgive me for lying all those years? And for being too stupid to—”  
    “I forgive you if you’ll forgive me.”
    He jerks up, his face creased with confusion. “Forgive you ? For what?”
    “For leaving like I did.”
    The worry lines fade. “Oh. That.” His tone of voice makes it sound like it was nothing. He frowns again, then gives me a gentle look. “How about we forgive each other and wipe the slate clean?”
    “How about you make love to me and we’ll call that forgiveness?” I ask , the words true and real.
    His face fills with a tenderness that makes my eyes tear up.
    “You’ll have me?”
    “You, Mark. And only you.”
    “ Only?” One eyebrow rises. There are so many layers to that question.  
    “Only.”
    He swallows, hard. His eyes fill with a contemplative emotion I do n’t see in him often. Mark’s a do-er. He makes things happen. For him to pause right now means he’s feeling so much.
    So am I.
    “You’ve never,” he says, his voice tight, “...since you left?”
    “No.”
    He blows out a long exhale. “That’s...wow. Carrie, no one?”
    I shake my head.
    His eyelids close so slowly, like he’s in pain. “Me either,” he says, his tone thick with emotion. “I couldn’t.”
    “Not a single woman?” I ask, incredulous. I look him up and down pointedly. My chin dips down to my chest as I survey his body, hovering over mine. My hands find his waist and I squeeze, just enough to make him press down against me. I hold back a moan. “You can’t tell me that someone like—”
    “You,” he joins me, our voices in unison. His eyes eat me up with the same hunger I feel for him.
    I go silent. His breath comes in steady pushes, his chest against mine, his heat blanketing me.  
    “We’ve both been waiting three years ?” he finally chokes out. Those strong hands clasp me to him, and his mouth takes mine again. The power of the kiss, filled with regret and too much time alone, makes me wonder how much we have pent up inside each of us.
    Three years.
    It’s time to find out.

Chapter Six
    I arch up and his hands slide under my shirt, pulling it over my head with a yank that is nearly violent in its rush. I whimper, the cloth catching on my injured cheek. I t’s as if we suddenly both realize that we’ve wasted so much time. As if those three years are a precious commodity we can’t waste another drop of.
    Which we can’t.
    “ Ouch,” I yelp, the eye socket burning.  
    “I’m so sorry!” Mark exclaims, halting. “I didn’t mean — ” He gives my forehead a sweet kiss, his eyes burning with desire to do the right thing.
    A nd good old-fashioned desire.
    Time passes with each lick, each sigh, each touch. W e’ll be damned if we’ll spend another fraction of a second without being naked and vulnerable, hot and sensual, entangled and sweaty and—
    “Oh!” I gasp as the cold air hits my naked breasts. Mark sits up on his knees and peels off his t-shirt.  
    I gasp again, this time in admiration.
    Oh, my God. I’ ve forgotten how magnificent his body i s.
    No, that i sn’t right. I ha ve n’t forgotten. Not one bit.
    Mark’s handsome chest and strong body ha ve been in my mind forever. It haunt s my dreams. The need to touch his skin, to run my hands without restraint across his pecs, to touch him with permission and without end ha s followed me everywhere.
    For three years.
    I reach up and the second my fingertips ma k e contact with his abs, it’s like lightning str ikes . We both jolt, Mark’s stomach curling in, my fingers reaching for more. I can touch him again. Really touch him. And this time, I’m not a scared little teen.
    I’m ready for