"Baby!" Alaric gasped as Nicolette crashed into him.
She was crying—he could tell from the way she trembled in his arms.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, rubbing his hands slowly down her back.
His heart pounded, echoing the intensity of her emotions. She was vulnerable—so open, so freely willing to feel everything.
She had missed him, and the thought stirred his stomach with heavy emotion. One he didn't even have a name for.
"I missed you so much," he murmured, his hands still gliding over her spine.
She raised her head, and his heart sank.
She was staring at him with such intensity, her eyes lit with longing, glistening with tears.
"I didn't…" she chuckled through her tears, wiping them away with trembling fingers.
"It's okay," he said softly. "I'm not judging you."
She didn't say anything. Instead, she reached up and kissed him.
He kissed her back—desperately, hungrily—as if he needed her to live.
And he did need her. To breathe.
