The Things We Leave Unfinished by Yarros, Rebecca (phonics reading books .txt) 📕

only one person who could approve changes without me, and her time was officially up.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Georgia

“Talk about swoon,” Hazel sighed.

“Yeah, that was a good part.” I switched the phone to my other ear and finished washing the dirt off my hands. The seedlings were coming along, and in just a few weeks, they’d be strong enough to be transplanted into the garden. Right in time for the weather to be kind enough to allow it.

“And holy wedding-night scene, Batman. I have to know, was that your gran? Or is there a little Noah in there, because it was so hot that I took myself down to Owen’s office—”

“Stop right there, because I do not need that mental picture the next time I go to the dentist.” I dried off my hands and tried not to think of exactly how much of that was Noah. Guess he’d set out to prove me wrong about the unsatisfying comment I’d made that day in the bookstore.

“Fine, but seriously. Hot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said as the doorbell rang.

“You sure you don’t want to come over for dinner?” she asked as I walked through the hallway and into the foyer. “I hate the thought of you eating pizza on a night like tonight. You should be celebrating. Gran would have loved this book.”

“I’m fine, and yeah, she sure would have. Hold up, my pizza is here.” I swung open the door. My heart slammed to a standstill, then took off at a gallop.

“Georgia.” Noah stood in my doorway, glaring down at me with a smolder that instantly turned my mouth to ash.

“Hazel, I have to go.”

“Really? You won’t reconsider? Because we’d love to have you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Noah’s here,” I said as casually as I could manage given the fact that I couldn’t breathe. Three months of longing slammed into me with the force of a wrecking ball.

“Oh, good. Ask him about the sex scene, would you?” she quipped.

He arched a dark brow, obviously having heard her.

“Eh, I think that conversation might have to wait. He looks a little perturbed.” My grip tightened on the door handle simply to keep myself standing. Self-preservation demanded I look away from those dark brown eyes, but the laws of magnetics wouldn’t let me.

“Wait, you’re not kidding, are you?” Her voice lost all its humor.

“Nope.”

“Bye!” She hung up, leaving me on my own, staring down the barrel of an incredibly annoyed Noah.

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked, tucking his thumbs into his pockets. It should have been criminal to look as good as he did.

“Are you going to yell at me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” I stepped back as he walked in. I closed the door, then leaned back against it.

He pivoted in the entry, leaving only a few steps between us. That distance was too much and not enough all in the same breath.

“I thought you were going to call me when you got back,” I started weakly. I’d been prepared for a lot of things today, but seeing him wasn’t one of them, not that I was complaining.

He narrowed his eyes, then reached into his back pocket and whipped out his cell, pushing two buttons.

My phone rang.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, spotting his name on the screen.

He raised his phone to his ear in blatant challenge.

I rolled my eyes but answered it.

“Hi, Georgia,” he said, his voice dropping low and turning my insides to mush. “I’m back.”

“When did that happen?” I asked. My cheeks heated as I realized I was actually talking to him on the phone in the middle of my foyer.

He flat-out smirked.

“Ugh,” I groaned and we both holstered our phones in our back pockets. “Answer the question.”

“Eighteen hours ago,” he replied, shoving the sleeves of his sweater up his forearms. “Six of which I’ve slept. I spent one figuring out what you’d done, then a total of eleven booking a flight, getting to the airport, actually flying, renting a car, and driving all the way from Denver.”

“Fair enough.”

“Have you had enough time?” He stuck his thumbs in his pockets again. “Or would you still like me to leave you alone?”

“Me?” I squeaked. “You were the one who disappeared. I figured you’d be back in a week, maybe two, not six. You could have called and told me. Sent an update or a carrier pigeon. Something.”

“You told me you were taking time and to call when I got back. Those are some pretty specific instructions, Georgia, and it fucking killed me to follow them.”

“Oh.”

“Why did you change the ending of the book?” he asked abruptly.

Here we go. “Oh, right. That.” I folded my arms under my breasts, wishing I’d chosen something a little better than jeans and a long-sleeved tee. This conversation called for armor…or lingerie.

“Yes. That.” He lifted his brows. “Why did you change it?”

“Because I love you!”

His eyes flared.

“Because I love you,” I repeated, this time managing not to yell. “And you were right about the ending. I was wrong. And I didn’t want to trash your career because I was being bitter and cold and sharp—”

He was on me before I finished the sentence, his body pressing mine against the door, his hands in my hair, his mouth kissing me into blissful oblivion.

God, I’d missed this—missed him. I kissed him back with everything I had, lacing my arms behind his neck as he picked me up, one hand under each thigh. I locked my ankles at the small of his back. Closer. I needed to be closer.

Over and over, he took my mouth with deep, swirling strokes of his tongue, setting me on fire like a match dropped into a pool of gasoline—like a lightning strike to tinder.

“Wait,” he said against my mouth, then jerked back like I’d bitten him. “We can’t do this yet.” His chest heaved.

“What?” My feet found the floor, and a heartbeat later, he was in the center of the foyer with his hands laced over his head. “What are you doing?”

“This all went to shit