To Be Obscure

| CH. 27

My eyes widened as I looked at them both. My heart danced uncomfortably in my chest. No, it couldn't be; I'd know her anywhere.

I knew the sight of her, the scent of her. I could feel her three towns over, just as long as she breathed. To say she stood there, behind me, and I didn't know—I couldn't believe it.

Has my memory truly gone that much?

My thoughts were silenced by the sound of quiet footsteps. First the heel, then the toe. I swallowed my nervousness as I turned half my body to look down the aisle that separated the chairs. The woman from the shadows now stood in the light—my woman. Beautiful as ever, dressed in white, just like that night under the moon. Her hair fell over one shoulder in dark waves. Her brown eyes peered at me as her hands fumbled with the front of her shirt. She muttered, just under her breath, but I heard not a word of it.

All I heard was the sound of blood rushing through my veins, and the echo of my thoughts:

Charlotte.

If hearts could explode, shatter, but before crumbling to dust, rebuild themselves with a flurry of beats, mine had done just that. I rushed down that aisle, fast enough to bring gasps from the cleaning crew; fast enough to draw a frightened breath from her lips.

I had imagined this moment a thousand times, thought of my apologies or jokes to loosen the mood. I could kiss her and take her right where she stood, no matter who watched. There were countless possibilities, scenarios, and sentences stored in my mind for this very moment.

Except, the second I stood in front of her, none of them happened.

I wasn't sure what to do. I fumbled, touched her face, her lips, the skin behind her ears. When her eyes searched mine as frantically as mine searched hers, my hands traveled down to her shoulders and along her arms, until I found her hands and squeezed them, drawing another gasp from those red lips.

I trembled at the thought of kissing her.

"Lamont," she finally said as her nails dug into my palms, "you're here."

"I am," I breathed, pressing my forehead down on hers. Finally, I managed to say words. "I'm really here."

She inched forward, as did I. The tips of our shoes touched. "You're real?"

I wanted to laugh; that should have been my question. Any time I'd seen her before had been in a dream. To assure her I was, I nodded. When she didn't speak, I let go of her hands and pulled her waist against mine with a starving need. We breathed against each other's lips. "Solid as ever, blood and bone, and—"

"Mine," she whispered against my bottom lip, igniting a fire in my soul.

"Yes, yours." I balled the back of her shirt into my fist, erasing any inch of space between us. "As you're mine."

"I've missed you." Her hands fumbled with the front of my shirt. I felt the warmth of her fingertips against my skin. My body shuddered in response. I didn't wait for her to say another word.

Fifteen years of need exploded from me in waves as I bent down and kissed her. Heat burned on the surface of her skin, inviting me to touch her as I please. She whimpered against my lips; a sound so heavenly, my heart welcomed its serenade.

Her hands were well inside my shirt as my fingers found the line of her pants. With her weight against me, I sat on the armrest of one of the many chairs and pulled her to stand in between my legs. She smelled of lavender and tasted like vanilla, just as before.

"Lamont."

"Yes, love?" My hand slid up her back.

"You finally came."