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“I love you, Bex. I’ve known that I love you for a while now. I should have said it back to you at the hospital. I never should have pushed you away. My biggest regret isn’t fighting Lehane or getting suspended by the NCAA. It’s losing you.”
Tears fall from my eyes, and he wipes them away with the back of his other hand. We stare at each other. Preston waits for me to respond, and I wonder what to say. But I have no idea what to do.
Because I love him.
I’ve missed him.
I want him.
I need him.
“Say something, Bex.” His voice is deep and modulated, so smooth it soothes me.
“I’m still mad at you. How do you expect me to trust you when you walked away as soon as times got tough? I’m afraid you’ll do it again.”
“I won’t.” He massages my hand with his long fingers, and it feels so damn good. “I promise to never shut you out again. I want you to be part of every aspect of my life. The good. The bad. The in-between. I want you to be there for all of it. And I want to be there for you. I really do love you, Bex. So fucking much it hurts. I feel like someone’s digging a knife into my chest when I’m not with you. I haven’t been able to sleep. I can’t eat. At first, I thought it was because of hockey, but I now know it’s because of you.”
“You’ve made the last few weeks of my life miserable, Preston.” I try to hold his gaze but have to look away. He blots more of my tears with his thumb, forcing me to look at him again. “I don’t know what to say or what to do. I’ve been through a lot over the years. I can’t take anymore.”
“I know, and I’m here for you.”
“I’ve lost my mother.” I continue, “Was humiliated my last year of high school and part of college. I still have to live in shame over those pictures on the Internet. I can’t even have a social media account because I’m so afraid someone will make the connection. It’s like I have to hide from everyone. I never had to with you. But then you pushed me away. It was like you were ashamed of me. Like you couldn’t stand to look at me because of what Kellan said to you.”
“Never,” he whispers. “I could never be ashamed of you. I kept my distance because I’m an asshole. I needed time to grieve the loss of my career, without realizing what I was doing to you in the process. I took you for granted, thinking you would be there when I was ready. I’m sorry, Bex.”
I cup his cheek with my hand and sigh. He kisses my fingers first, covering each of them with his mouth. I suck in a deep breath, hoping to find my willpower. Which seems to have disappeared on me. Because I can’t fight him. He’s too intoxicating, too hard to resist.
Preston must see the desire in my eyes because he slides his arm behind my back, and he lifts me up from the chair. His eyes burn through me, his hands leaving a harsh burn in their wake. My entire body comes alive from his touch. He knows it. Preston was probably banking on my physical reaction to him.
“I love you, Bex,” he whispers against my mouth. “Please forgive me.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and then his lips are on mine, his tongue invading my mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me up and lowers me onto the table, making room for himself between my legs. He explores my thighs with his big hands and slowly makes his way to the hem of my shirt. His hand dips beneath it, and I whimper when he cups my breast over my bra.
“I missed you so much, Bex.” He says the words softly, under his breath.
“I missed you, too.” I’m panting and flushed from our intense kiss. And I want more. “I want you inside me.” I tug at the bottom of his jeans, my eyes fixed on his. “Right here. In the library.”
“Aww, baby,” he growls. “This is like my dream come true.”
I laugh, pulling down his pants enough to grab his thick cock through the slit in his boxers. “Sex in a library is your dream?”
“No, but watching you step out of your comfort zone is.” He strips away my shoes, followed by my leggings, and then he gives himself a few pumps before he inches into me.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I moan from the ripple of pleasure that rushes through me. “Preston,” I mutter.
He thrusts his hips. “I missed this, too.”
“Yes,” I moan, both agreeing with him and enjoying how good this feels.
