Page 38 of ‘Til You Came Along

So instead, I lean forward and kiss him, trying to communicate just how much I feel for him and how much he means to me through a kiss. He kisses me back with that same passion. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve guessed he was kissing me with the same intent and emotion. His lips feel so soft and warm, so comforting against my own.

It feels like hours pass, though it is probably only a few minutes before I finally speak up. “Stay with me tonight?” I whisper between kisses. His hands cup my face, his breath sweet and hot on my mouth.

“Please,” He pleads as if he couldn’t bear to part from me, breathless as he kisses me more. This is pure bliss. This feeling of being held. Cherished. His hands never move from my face and my hair. I feel completely safe in his arms. There is nowhere else I want to be.

But even in the safety and sureness I feel, a little seed of fear and doubt takes root in my mind. While I’ve kissed guys before, I’ve never gone farther than that. From my conversations with Elliot, I assume he has way more experience than I do. While I know in my heart that it won’t matter to him, I still feel concerned, and slightly embarrassed, about sharing this personal detail.

I pull away reluctantly, leaning my forehead against his, to whisper, “I’ve never…uhm, never had—” I can’t finish my thoughts. But he knows what I mean. His face softens so affectionately as he cups my face and brushes his fingers along my temple.

“When you’re ready…if you’re ever ready, then so am I.” He says so sweetly and tenderly. “We have forever.”

My heart rejoices at that word. “That sounds nice,” I whisper as I bring my lips back to his.

Eventually, I nuzzle my head into his chest, and he holds me while stroking my hair. I fall asleep in his arms, feeling whole and complete.

TWENTY

ELLIOT, NOW

Another week passes.

She doesn’t say more than ten words to me.

The silence is agony.

I feel empty.

TWENTY-ONE

MADELINE, THEN

I wake up with an arm slung over me holding me against a warm and hard chest. My eyes spring open.

Oh my gosh,. I think. Elliot Decker is in my bed.

I feel my heart pick up in its rhythmic beating. Faster and faster. I instantly become aware of every area where our bodies are touching. But I don’t feel uncomfortable. It truly feels like we fit together perfectly. I smile and close my eyes again before snapping them open once more.

I probably have the worst morning breath. My hair is most likely in complete disarray. I try not to wake him up as I attempt to shimmy out from under his arm to go sneakily brush my teeth and fix my hair. His arm immediately tightens around me and I stop moving.

“I don’t care about your morning breath,” He mumbles sleepily.

“Well…I do, sir,” I joke and keep trying to wiggle out of his grasp. He lifts his arm but slides his hand down my arm to hold my hand instead.

“Seriously, I couldn’t care less,” He insists, but I keep my head turned from him. He strokes my hand gently. I lift my other hand and try to tame my hair and wipe under my eyes. He waits patiently. After a few inner pep talks, I turn to face him with a grimace.

“I can’t even imagine what I look like right now,” I wince. He, of course, looks devastatingly handsome. Eyelids heavy and hooded with sleep and his hair all mussed, he still looks beautiful. His smile is sweet and sleepy.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful,” He says sincerely. I laugh.

“I think that’s an insult?” I joke and he squeezes my hand in jest. “Seriously, I know one day I’ll be more comfortable around you…but I need to at least brush my teeth…”

“Hurry back.” He presses his lips to my hand and melts my heart. I might make a little sound because he chuckles before letting go. I roll myself off the bed with a lack of grace I’m sure only I can manage before darting into the bathroom.

As I look in the mirror, I know it could be worse. It’s definitely been worse in the past. I brush my teeth quickly and finger comb through my wavy hair. I swipe some mascara from under my eyes before turning to go back.

He is exactly where I left him, still fully clothed but half covered in my duvet. I climb back towards him and lay down to face him. “Good morning, boyfriend,” I say.

“Boyfriend?” He smiles, raising a dark eyebrow.

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