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“Talk to me,” he begged.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
I looked at him and smiled against the quick kiss he pressed to my lips. “I hate that I miss you when you’re not around. I hate that I feel so weak without you . . . and so vulnerable with you.”
He traced a thumb down my jaw and over my throat. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
His pale eyes studied mine for a long time before he said, “Maybe because you feel like you can let your guard down for the first time. That doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
Dropping your guard allowed emotions to slip through.
Emotions made you weak.
Being seen made you weak.
And he saw pieces of me that should’ve been silenced years ago.
The corner of my mouth twitched into a small smile. “If you say so.”
He dropped another swift kiss on my lips then slowly moved away from me, giving me time to steady myself now that he wasn’t supporting me.
When I turned to face him, he was a few feet away, his expression grave and his arms folded over his chest. “This morning . . .”
“Don’t.”
“We have to. What I did—” A pained noise sounded from deep in his chest. “I should’ve never let it get to that point.”
A breath of a laugh fell from my lips. “What you did? I liked what you did.”
His eyes darkened with a mixture of need and frustration.
“I did,” I repeated, my voice firm. “What happened at the end was just . . . unfortunate.”
“Not the word that comes to mind,” he ground out.
“I wanted you to continue. But with everything going on—” I bit down on my lip and swallowed thickly. The ache in my throat another reminder. Another piece of that everything. “It just consumed me so fast, and I couldn’t stop it.”
“You’re not going to tell me what’s happening.”
I shook my head.
He studied me, his fingers moving in a rolling motion to calm himself where they remained crossed over his chest. “I should’ve never let it get to that point,” he repeated.
“It’s a shame you feel that way, because I’ve been thinking . . .”
His brow ticked up at my tone, but he didn’t respond or move as I walked to where I’d left my bag—where I’d left what I’d borrowed from AJ’s warehouse.
I’ve been thinking we need this.
I’ve been thinking I need one last time with you before you can’t stand to look at me.
I’ve been thinking you mean more than you were ever supposed to.
My heart squeezed painfully, but I forced myself to ignore it—forced myself to focus on the way I was suddenly breathless. On the way my stomach was curling with want. On the way I was trembling with excitement and fear at the thought of what I was going to suggest.
