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His hand in my hair tightens almost to the point of pain, and I give him another slow kiss in return.
“I’ve never hated you, Corvin Morales. I’ve hated—regretted—every fucking day that I walked away from you. That if I had just stayed on your lap and kissed you like I wanted, life wouldn’t have fallen apart the way it did.”
He strokes along my waist in soft, comforting motions, but he doesn’t make any moves to bring us closer together or push us further apart.
My throat is dry from the raw honesty pouring out.
“I’ve never hated you,” I repeat. “I hated that I felt something for you that night that I’d never felt before… and I ran away. I ran away and look what happened.”
Green eyes fill with sadness.
“You felt something for a man, and then a man hurt you.”
That’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it?
Fighting with bisexuality. My feelings for Atty. Needing to push Corvin away to keep the memories at bay.
At some point he stopped drawing them out of me.
Instead of reminding me of pain, he became my point of healing.
“I don’t want to run from you.”
I let his mouth graze mine and whisper against his parted lips.
“I just want you.”
Chapter 30
Corvin
“I just want you.”
And isn’t that the single most beautiful sentence that could come from this man’s mouth?
After weeks of not seeing him, having Shiloh in my arms again makes my skin feel alive. Like it’s been in a constant state of pins and needles and can finally rest.
Deep brown eyes stare up at me all innocently, begging me to force them closed, to make them roll.
Right now, I just want to see them light up. I want to see that cheeky smile I’ve had to do without.
“I know you want me,” I say, keeping my mouth just out of reach as he presses onto his tiptoes to meet me.
That full bottom lip pouts out, and I swipe my thumb across it.
“You wanting me doesn’t change the reason you left.”
As the words sink in, Shiloh slowly pulls away, not receding fully, but dragging his hands down my body to rest loosely above my hips. His eyes follow the path, and then they close on a deep breath.
When he lets it out, those eyes flash to me again—crystal clear and void of the turmoil I’ve seen in them every day for the last six months.
“I don’t trust myself,” he says. “My medications keep me afloat, but I’m not always Medicated Shiloh. I still have mood swings. Some sudden. Some I don’t even notice are there until I’m too far in the deep end to swim to shore. I both love and hate how I feel when I’m there, so it’s hard for me to ask for help or admit that I need it.”
I pull him in, and he caves like soaked cardboard. He wraps his arms around me, lays his head on my chest, and my body whispers, “this is right. This is where we belong.”
“I do think of that night whenever I’m with you.” His fingers roam my back like he’s making a map. “But it’s not always bad. That moment with you was the last shred of happiness I had before those bastards stole it from me. I can’t see you without seeing what I lost.”
He turns his head and presses a soft kiss to the base of my throat. “When I went to those men at the trailer park… I thought you’d hate me. I thought you’d see that I’m a piece of trash not worth your time and throw me away.”
