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When I gazed up again, she had moved once more, our bodies now almost pressed together.
“Say it,” she whispered.
I wanted to fucking growl.
I wanted to fight.
I wanted to do what I did best and find something to use against her, pick her apart, or snarl in her face.
But that would get me nowhere—and that was a direction I’d been heading in for a long-ass time.
“Jovana ...” My voice was quiet, almost unrecognizable. “I care about you.”
She smiled. “See, was that so hard?”
I appreciated the sarcasm.
I even huffed out a burst of air before I said, “Yes. It was.”
She grabbed the collar of my sweatshirt and leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against mine.
The kiss was slow, passionate.
Sexy as hell.
And when she pulled away, she kept her face hovered in front of me.
“I don’t know what any of this means,” I told her, “or how things are going to change between us or what I’m even capable of. I don’t know how to do this. You know I’ve never done anything like it before.” I paused, collecting myself to make sure I stayed and didn’t start to veer. “But what I can tell you is that I’m happy you’ve moved into my home and the feelings I have for you are strong and extremely real and”—I stopped to kiss her—“I want more. With you, with us.” I lowered my hands down her back until they were gripping her ass. “And, fuck, I want you.”
“Grayson ...” Her stare moved between my eyes. “I feel the same way.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jovana
As soon we returned to Grayson’s condo, I linked fingers with him and said, “Follow me,” before I took him through the guest wing and into my room.
It was an embarrassing mess.
Clothes were piled along each side of the bed. The dresser was covered in accessories. My framed photography was on the floor, resting against the wall. A giant bin of cosmetics was in the corner. I’d moved my filming equipment to make more room, and now that was scattered around anywhere there was an open spot.
I’d get it all cleaned up and organized.
But not tonight.
Within a few steps into the room, I turned toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck. And as I stared into those haunting green eyes, I thought of all the moments that it had taken to get here.
The moments that had been hard on my heart.
The frustration he’d put me through.
The way I’d forced myself not to give up, even though he’d told me countless times there was never going to be an us. That we would never grow into anything. That in the end, he was going to walk.
Of course, that could still be true.
So many things could happen within the next year.
But a feeling inside told me that deep down, he didn’t mean the harshness he’d said to me.
