Page 109 of Embrace

Instead of going to his chair, I sit on his bed, and he seems to appreciate that more. My folded hands sink between my thighs like I’m on the receiving end of a lecture and any minute now he’ll put a bar of soap in my mouth to wash out the filth.

Kian sits beside me on the bed. There’s at least two feet of space between us.

There’s a sticky film of shame living on my skin now.

“I’m not being polite when I say that you’re so perfect I have ahard time understanding how to exist beside you. It’s like staring into the sun.”

“That sounds painful,” I whisper.

“It is,” he says. “But I’d do it over and over if I could find a way to keep that blinding imprint from its brightness on my vision forever.”

My blood vibrates in my veins. “That doesn’t explain why you ignored my pictures.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I just—it’s not because of what you think,” he explains. “I wanted to see you first. I didn’t want whatever I had to say to be lost over text. I almost twisted my ankle when I saw your pictures on the way back on the team bus this morning.”

A small smile comes to my face, but his only dampens. His shoulders follow its descent.

“But…” I trail on.

“Scar, I want the real you, not who you think you have to be in these pictures. I love them, really, I do, but I’d much rather be there to see you like this. You don’t have to do any of this for me.”

“I thought—God, this is embarrassing. Forget I sent those. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you don’t want those, you’re not like the rest. It was stupid.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“I get it. I do. You don’t want a reminder of the girl I was. Or that I’m so comfortable sending those types of pictures. You probably see me as…less.”

“Look at me,” he demands.

If I do, he’ll see the shameful tears brimming in my red-rimmed eyes. I don’t want him to lie to me just to make me feel better. I know what I am. Who I let myself become. So I shake my head, staring at the tips of his shoes as they move closer to mine. My heart thumps fast in my chest.

“You won’t look at me?” he whispers, almost cooing.

I swallow hard. “I don’t need you to lie to me.”

His soft chuckle lands in the space between us. “I won’t. Promise.”

This softens the rigid frame of my body. Kian’s promises are like the gold hidden in a treasure box deep in the sea, never to be broken.

I flick my gaze to his chin, trying my hardest to keep it there. His finger is on my chin, lifting it higher, helping me the rest of the way to his eyes.

“You’re not less. Not after those photos, and not before. If you send me pictures, I want them only if you do. Not because you think that’s what you have to do for me.”

“That was for me.”

He gives me a look. “So it’s not because you missed my game and felt like you owed me something?”

My chest feels tighter now. “I—I wanted you to know I’d make it up to you.”I don’t want you to leave.

Kian slides his hand over my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m a big boy, Scarlett. I don’t need a lollipop to feel better.”

“Are you calling my body a lollipop?”

“Sure tastes like one.”

I hope to God I don’t blush. He pulls me in so my head is pressed against his warm chest. The fabric of his sweater and the smell of his cologne soften my body like a lullaby.

“What do you need then?”