“Yes,” I answer honestly. I know exactly how miserable he’s been because I’ve felt the same way.
“You destroyed me, Emmy, and yet all I do is think about you. Every time I pick up my goddamn phone, there you are, defending me like you actually see who I am and know me. And love me.” His voice is thick, choked with what could be his own tears.
I close my eyes, as if that can keep the pain in his voice from knifing me in the chest. “I do see you, and I do know you. I love you, Grayson.” I reach behind me, taking his free hand in mine and lacing our fingers together. “I love you, and I’m sorry, and I will say that a million more times if it means you can forgive me.”
He spins me around so we’re face to face. “I forgive you.”
Tears I thought were under control stream down my cheeks. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hand snakes around my waist, pressing flat against the small of my back. “I should have told you about Kevin’s intentions from the beginning, as soon as it became clear we were more than costars with benefits.”
“I never should have jumped to conclusions about what I heard. You would never hurt me intentionally, and I know that.” I place my hand on his chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm. “I missed you.”
His hand covers mine. “I missed you, too. Every second of every fucking day.”
I tilt up my head, and thanks to my heels, my lips land just inches from his. He leans down, closing the gap to a sliver. The first brush of his lips over mine is like the drift of a snowflake, soft and light and gone before it truly lands.
He closes his eyes, his forehead coming to rest on mine. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person in my life who’s ever really believed in me, Ems. And then you didn’t, and it killed me.”
My heart constricts, burning in my chest. “Again, I’m so, so sorry—”
“I’m not telling you that because I want you to keep being sorry.” He cups the nape of my neck in his large palm. “I said I forgive you, and I meant it.” His thumb strokes the line of my jaw. “I’m telling you because that’s something I need to work on. It’s not up to you to make me feel worthy. I need to feel that for myself.”
I press a soft kiss on his cheek. “I admire you for seeing that, and for wanting to do something about it.” I take hischeek in my hand, delighting in the familiar tickle of his beard on my palm. “And I will tell you every day how worthy I think you are.”
He turns his head, his lips finding the center of my palm. “God, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
His mouth is on mine before I even finish the phrase. He kisses me like he wants to make up for our thousands of lost kisses in one single blow. I open to him and he takes me, his arms wrapping around me, pressing me into him. My fingers dig their way into his hair, and he groans into my mouth.
I don’t even realize my feet have left the ground until my back is pressed up against the door, the full weight of Grayson anchoring me, holding me, supporting me. His lips travel down my neck, finding the sensitive spot along my collarbone. I slip a hand under his jacket, yanking the tail of his shirt from the back of his pants, needing to feel his skin underneath my palm. My fingers skirt around his waistband, tracing the ridges of his stomach and up over the hard planes of his chest.
His hips thrust, the hard length of him pressing into my belly, and this time the groan is mine.
“Grayson, I need you,” I whimper, my hand traveling down to the front of his pants, cupping him through the fabric.
He grunts, his hands digging into my waist and pulling me closer. “You want our first time in all these weeks to be in a closet?”
I squeeze him gently. “I want our first time in all these weeks to be right fucking now.”
He puts some space between us, his pupils so wide I can barely see the blue of his eyes. “Are you sure?”
I cover his hand, moving it down to the slit in my dress. “That’s one thing about this dress; I’m not wearing any underwear.”
His lips crash down on mine, his fingers wrapping around my leg, lifting it so his next thrust hits me right where I need him. I roll up my hips, desperate for pressure, for relief. He peels off his jacket, tossing it on some nearby shelf.
And then he falls to his knees in front of me. For a second he doesn’t touch me, doesn’t even breathe. Our eyes meet, and there is nothing but love in his gaze.
Then he licks his lips. “Hike up that skirt.”
“What’s the magic word?” I tease, breathlessly.
“Now.”
I choke on a gasp and immediately obey, pulling my skirt to the side, baring myself to him.
The next look he gives me is greedy and salacious, and I almost come before he even touches me. He runs a hand up my bare leg, taking his sweet-ass time, considering how demanding he was just a second earlier.
