Page 133 of Before We Break

As he strides out the exit, I pull out my phone and see a text from Clio on the screen.

Princess: Where’s the charger for Auggie’s ears?

Me: Should still be plugged in beside my bed.

I type out a reply and start cleaning up my station. Clio’s spending the night at my place and I’m eager to get home so I can have her in my arms again. My phone chimes a second time.

Princess: Nope. Try again.

Me: Check the top drawer of my nightstand.

The second I reply, my body goes rigid. If the charger is in my nightstand, which I’m certain it is, she’s going to find my sketchbook. Will it freak her out to know I’ve spent the last nine months trying to sketch her from memory? Fuck

Me: Wait.

I stare at my phone waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. When a full minute passes without a response, I shove out of my chair and rush to the stairwell. Before I can get there, Gwen jogs to catch up with me.

“Mind helping me out for a sec?”

“Can it wait?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Geez, who’s got your panties in a bunch?”

Letting my frustration get the better of me, I glare at her. “What do you need, Gwen?”

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

The unnecessary distraction causes me to lose several valuable seconds, and by now there’s no question in my mind about whether or not Clio found my sketchbook. I groan and wrench open the door between the studio and the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Every nerve ending in my body is vibrating with a heavy mix of anticipation and dread.

I stride into my apartment and kick the door shut behind me, not stopping until I’m standing in my bedroom’s the open doorway. There it is. The woman who managed to break through all of my defenses as she turns another page.

I heave out a ragged sigh and run my hand down my face. “Fuck.”

How am I supposed to explain that I’ve spent every moment with her painstakingly memorizing every detail of her face? That I’ve been held captive by every last one of her thirty-six freckles for months on end, tormented by the exact curl of her lashes and the delicate slope of her cupid’s bow. How do I tell her any of that without also telling her I’ve fallen tragically, relentlessly in love with her against my will?

If I didn’t wholeheartedly believe love would ruin us, I’d say just that, fuck the consequences. But I don’t know how to give her what’s left of my heart.

“Why?”

One word, barely audible beneath my thundering pulse.

I pad into the room and lower myself onto the bed across from her, taking the sketchbook and placing it back in the drawer.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, inside and out.” I run my knuckles down the side of her cheeks, taking her trembling hand in mine. “You radiate warmth and light, and when you smile… God, Clio. Your smile moves me. If I could find a way to live in it, I’d stay there forever and die a happy man.”

Her brow furrows, and she tilts her head, staring at me in awe. “Noah…”

“I know, princess. Don’t say anything.” I’ve laid all my cards on the table short of those three words I can’t say, and I know if she keeps talking, she’ll cross a line we can’t come back from. “Just kiss me.”

Her soft hands capture my face, her thumbs dragging against my stubble before she leans in, brushing my lips in a whisper of a kiss. Each caress feels like a fist around my heart. It’s too soft—too tender a kiss for the way I’m feeling.

I band my arms around her back and hoist her onto my lap.

As she straddles me, I thread my fingers through her hair and deepen the kiss, fusing our mouths and delving in to taste her sweetness. She nips my bottom lip, and I groan as my cock responds with a jolt. Panting, Clio breaks from the kiss and slides off my lap, onto her knees.

“What are you doing, princess?” There’s an unspoken warning in my voice—one she’s seemingly hell-bent on ignoring as she reaches for my zipper.

“I want to make you feel good.” She wrenches open my jeans and tugs them down with my underwear. I lift my hips to give her more room to pull them all the way off and toss them off to the side. Feeling strange about being half-dressed, I lift my shirt off over my head and throw it into the pile with the rest of my discarded clothing.