*An excerpt from my Valentine’s Day short story, Only You, a continuation of “Incoming Call.”

“How many times do I have to tell you this?” he asked, lifting his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t care about anything except for you. But you are making our stay here unpleasant and we just got here. This is only the first night. Is this what I got to look forward to for the rest of the week?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Mia.” He leaned forward to take my hand. “We can be outside on a cardboard box in that back alley and I’d still be happy.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” he said nodding with a smile. “Right.”

I fought but lost to the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “I don’t need you to be your positive have-the-answers-to-everything self, Q. I need you to just be pissed… like me.”

“Oh, you want me upset too, huh?”

He stood to his feet and up in front of me, towering over me now while licking his lips.

I grinned in response. “Yeah.”

“For what? I don’t see a reason to be.”

The way he locked eyes with me could have melted the panties right off me. Q unzipped his North Face slow, peeled the puffy sleeves down his arms then tossed the coat to the floor beneath us.

“Should I be pissed about your hair being messed up?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Why? You still fine as hell and I’m just gonna sweat it out tonight, anyway.”

A laugh left my lips, and he smiled in response.

Q backed me against the hotel’s writing desk, held me by the waist and lifted me to the table’s surface, sitting me on top.

“Or should I be pissed about the room?”

“You could be,” I said running my palms up his chest and over his sweater. His pecs were hard. My man kept himself in shape after all these years.

“But a bed is the least of my concerns for what I got planned for you. So it’s all good.”

I giggled. “Is that right?”

Q gripped me on the sides of my hips and slid me over the desk’s surface, closer to him. “Mm-hmm.”

He lowered his lips to my neck and placed a gentle kiss there.

I moaned in response.

“And this outfit you keep complaining to me about? The one you wanted to wear for me?”

“Uh-huh?”

“You already know I like you in a sweatsuit, anyway. And if not that, just naked will do.”

I giggled.

“So, hush all that complaining,” he said, his hands sliding up from my hips to underneath the hem of my sweatshirt, “and let’s settle into the mood that will allow me to get you naked in this room.”

I lifted my arms and wrapped them around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. He allowed it, meeting me halfway for a kiss, a long overdue one.

The instant our lips touched I forgot all about my frustrations. About things not going according to plan. All that mattered in that moment was Q. All I needed was him. For months, I craved this moment, being there with him, his hands moving all over my body like they once did.

Q moaned on my lips, his tongue gliding slow against mine, his lips soft, no tension, just the right amount of strength behind them. He never held back with me and I appreciated that even more now after seeing what else was out there waiting for me.

I’d met no one so open. So unbounded by masculinity he had no problem showing a woman how good she made him feel. How much pleasure she offered with only her kiss.

He walked between my legs and pulled me even closer to him. I exhaled on his lips the moment I felt his hard-on fighting for freedom behind the fly of his jeans.

“You feel that right there?” he asked between his kisses.

“Mm-hmm.”

“He misses you.”

“And I miss him. But what about dinner? Aren’t we going to eat?”

Q stepped back to meet his eyes with mine then leaned forward, close to my face.

He said, “I want you to be the last thing I taste tonight,” before pecking me on the mouth.

My jaw slacked a little. “Well, damn.”

“Is that all right with you?” He winked.

Coming Valentine’s Day. This story is exclusive to subscribers of my BK Insiders List. The club’s list opens Tuesday, 2/12.