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“Iwant you to fight for me, Cooper. The same way I’ve fought for you.”
My pulse was racing like I’d just sprinted a mile. My insides tingly. My hand a little unsteady as I released his face and rested those fingers on his shoulder. My other hand, which was holding his chest, moved to the opposite side of his neck, and I searched his eyes, waiting for a response.
I could have pushed off this conversation, postponing it a few weeks, even months, accumulating hundreds of arguments under our belt and more assholeness, letting the tension come to a roaring peak.
But why?
Just to prolong what I wanted to say to him? To hope that during the extended period of time, his feelings—the ones I believed he had—would grow stronger?
Screw that.
There was something inside me that couldn’t wait.
That needed him to know where I stood.
What I wanted.
What I knew to be true.
That I saw right through his bullshit behavior.
And after I confessed, he didn’t push me away. He didn’t tell me I was wrong.
He just stared into my eyes and gripped my waist as the emotion ran through his face.
The silence between us built, and so did the angst, the tiny sparks that ignited within me increasing to bolts of electricity while the seconds ticked.
And then, out of nowhere, as though he couldn’t handle it anymore, he whispered, “I need something.” His fingers spread like a fan, and I swore his large hands covered both of my sides and most of my stomach. “I need to kiss you.”
Intimacy was Cooper’s love language.
That was when I felt more than just passion. What came through his fingers, his mouth, his body was deep, more fulfilling, far more powerful than anything I’d ever felt before.
I wanted to experience that again.
I wanted it to own me.
Just because he didn’t have words didn’t mean he wasn’t giving me an answer. This was the way he was choosing to reply, and I’d take it.
Because it was a language I also spoke.
“Why are you even asking?” I questioned.
The smallest smile widened across his lips. “I’m not. I’m warning you.”
Once that warning met the air, I was hit with the heat from his mouth as it pressed against mine, followed by his hands surrounding my face, holding me close, keeping us aligned.
Together.
Locked.
I didn’t just feel the dominance in his lips as they melded to mine or the wetness of his tongue as it slid in. I felt the warmth of his skin and the strength of his fingers. I tasted his familiar flavor and inhaled his unique scent, ones that I’d missed so much.
As my eyes stayed shut, my body fell against his, and I listened to what his mouth was telling me, absorbing the way his kiss penetrated my bones and muscles.
I heard his unspoken words.
And I felt his affection in the way his lips enclosed mine, in his fingertips, in every exhale that breezed across my skin.
