The urgency in his touch fades, replaced by something slower. His lips turn gentle, dragging over mine in slow, aching strokes. He catches my lower lip between his teeth, and I feel the faintest tremor in his hand. Then, he releases me and pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
My chest rises and falls in a frantic rhythm. My lips are tender from his kiss, and my heart shatters, pieces of it scattered at his feet. Tears burn in the corners of my eyes, and there’s no point in trying to fight them. None of this feels new or like something that’s just started or something that could easily end. No, this feelsold, like it’s always been here, buried beneath the surface waiting for the right moment to rise up. Worn-in and impossibly familiar in that bone-deep way only something you’ve longed for in silence can be.
“You okay?” he whispers.
I nod, even though my throat is tight and my heart is so full it feels too big for my chest.
But when a tear escapes, sliding down my cheek, Rowan doesn’t hesitate. He catches it with his lips, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
In that breathless second, I know if he ever leaves again, it’lldestroy me worse than anything or anyone else ever could. Yet, with his heart pressed to mine, his hands strong and sure, I’d let him ruin me all over again just to experience this. Just to have him, this close, this real, one more time.
eighteen
. . .
Rowan
Her mouth opens for me, and I lose my goddamn mind.
I kiss her like a man who’s been holding his breath too long, because I have been—holding back, pretending I didn’t need this as badly as I do. As badly as I needher. Her lips are soft, hesitant for half a heartbeat, then warmer, surer, and the small sound she makes against my mouth hits me straight in the chest. It unravels me. Every wall I’ve built with the best of intentions starts to give away, piece by piece.
My hand slides into her hair, fist tightening as I deepen the kiss, and when she gives in to me fully and sweetly, my body answers before I can stop it. A rough groan tears free, pulled from somewhere deep, the sound of a man finally done pretending he doesn’t want what’s always been his.
She has no idea how many nights I’ve spent thinking about her. How often I’ve imagined this moment, memorized the shape of her mouth without ever touching it, my hands twisted in the sheets, trying to quench the thirst for something I thought I’d never have. She doesn’t know how many times I’ve stood near her pretending indifference, how many times it hollowed me out to watch her laugh with someone else, to see her attentiondrift away while I stayed rooted in place, trapped between desire and the rule I made that said I couldn’t reach.
I slide my tongue into her mouth and kiss her with everything I’ve held back, desperate to make her feel every damn truth I should have said sooner. Part of me is waiting for the moment I wake up alone, foolish, and fifteen again, realizing this was just another thing I wasn’t brave enough to try.
She whimpers into my mouth, and it knocks the wind out of me. I slow down, not because I want to, but because I have to. If I keep going, I’m going to fall all the way in and never come up for air.
So I kiss her softer. Slower. Every missed opportunity is wrapped up in the way her lips are so sweet and warm against mine. I bite her bottom lip gently, pulling back just enough to breathe her in.
Our foreheads press together, her breath shaky against my lips. Her eyes lock with mine, and they’re wide, full of everything I’ve ever wanted from her. Her heart is in her gaze, laid bare, and I can’t look away, even if it means breaking mine wide open in the process.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She nods, and then a tear slips down her cheek.
It wrecks me. I don’t want to be the reason for her tears. Not ever.
I don’t think, I just move. My lips brush over her skin, kissing it away before my brain can catch up. It’s silent and desperate, a wordless apology for every year I let pass without her, for every time I held myself back. A plea stitched into a kiss.Forgive me.
Her lips are swollen, lashes damp with more tears she hasn’t let fall. She’s heartbreak and hope tangled into one, cutting me open with the ache of how much I’ve wanted her all this time.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I didn’t plan this,” I say, voice rough even to my own ears.
“Liar,” she whispers, but there’s a curve to her lips that softens the word.
“Maybe a little,” I admit.
She reaches up, her fingers brushing the line of my jaw. Her touch is light, tentative.
I want to pull her into my lap, feel the weight of her against me, breathe her in until she’s the only thing in the world. The problem is, I’m not sure how to stop at just kissing when every inch of me is on fire for her.
Her hand slips from my jaw as she exhales. “What are we doing?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, and that gesture might as well be a punch to the gut. I know that move. She’s trying to protect herself, trying to distance herself from whatever this is.
