“We’re already too far gone,” I whisper before crashing my lips to hers.
The kiss only lasts one devastating second before Summer pushes me away from her. “I can’t keep doing this,” she sighs, sounding truly exhausted, making guilt settle deep in my stomach.
Elijah’s advice to be honest echoes in my mind.
What can it hurt? To lay myself open at her feet and give her the opportunity to ruin me.
“I don’t think this is a mistake,” I say, gesturing between us. “I’ve never felt the way that I do when I’m around you. That’s not something that I want to ignore any longer. It’s not something I want to risk losing.” I push her hair behind her ear. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” I murmur. “Tell me that this isn’tsomething that comes around once in a lifetime. Tell me you have no interest in seeing where this could go.”
I don’t care if I sound like I’m begging. I want her. I want there to be an ‘us.’ I want there to be a relationship to fight for.
“I can’t tell you any of those things,” she says quietly.
“Why not?” I push.
“Because I’d be lying. To you and to myself.”
I take a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm myself and not show the excitement that’s coursing through my body. “I think that we’re both aware that we’ve crossed a line after the other night. A line that we can’t uncross.”
“So?” she exhales, exasperated, but I can see a small betraying glimmer of hope in her gaze.
“So why try?” I respond. Her eyes widen in shock at my words, and her lips part. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Summer. I dream about you. I can’t stop myself from staring at you and your damn skirts in class. It takes everything in me not to fucking email you about some asinine issue with an assignment or call you just to talk when I want to hear your voice, or your laugh. I want to invite you over. I want to see you outside of class. And after the other night? Fuck,” I huff out. “That completely ruined me. I can’t go back after that. I want you. I want more than what we’ve been doing. This isn’t just sex for me. It’s not about getting off. And you’re right, you don’t deserve this back and forth. And I don’t want to keep trying to push you away.”
“What do you want?” she asks quietly.
“I want you to come home with me.” She doesn’t say anything, and I cup her face in my hands and let my forehead rest against hers. “Come home with me,” I beg.
“Okay,” she agrees, the stiffness dissipating from her shoulders. “Okay.”
Honestly, it surprises the hell out of me. We’ve both been fighting this thing for so long that I didn’t think there’d ever come a time when we both gave in before we’d even lost any clothing.
I tug on her hand and start to lead her toward my car. I want her home, naked, in my bed before she starts thinking too hard about the choices we’re making. I’ll convince her that we can make this work. Hell, if I could convince myself of that, surely I can convince her.
23
SUMMER
This is a horrible idea.Continuing whatever form of a relationship this is, can’t lead anywhere good. But if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’ve wanted Asher since I ran into him outside his classroom. I’ve wanted more than just stolen kisses and dark corners since the elevator, when I realized that I’d never be able to get enough.
Maybe it’ll all be worth it. Maybe no one will find out, and everything will be fine. We can keep it a secret until I graduate from the program, and then it won’t matter who knows we’re together… we’ll just keep the when of it under wraps.
I’m wrapped in Asher’s soft sheets, the material warm against my bare skin.
I can feel sleep tugging at me, begging me to succumb to its tempting embrace. But I’ve never gotten to be so casual with Asher. To see him in his most comfortable state.
“So did you really drive across the state just because of a bad date?” he asks, tracing shapes across my bare back.
I sigh. “My mother has this weird thing, where she’s worried if I don’t settle down and have kids soon, I’ll miss out on the opportunity.”
“Seems a bit premature considering you’re twenty-eight.”
“My mom prioritized her career over dating when she was my age. Then, when she finally met my dad and got swept off her feet, they struggled with having kids. My mother’s not ancient or anything, but I think after having multiple miscarriages and then me being born prematurely… I think she’s under the impression that had she been younger, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”
“And she doesn’t want that possibility for you.”
I nod. “No.” I let out a sad laugh. “She thinks with every year that passes that my chances of having kids get smaller and smaller.”
“Do you want kids?” he asks curiously.
