Page 131 of On the Breakaway

“Wanting your independence because you know what it’s like to live without it doesn’t make you selfish. It just makes you honest.”

“Honest,” I repeat as if the word itself is completely foreign to me. His face is only inches from mine, and I lean in just slightly.

“You’re surrounded by people who care about you, and you care about them too when you let yourself.”

“And you?”

“Yeah, Chaos. I care about you.”

My heart stumbles over itself. “But I’ve been kind of awful to you.”

His thumb traces gently across my cheek in slow circles, and my heart picks up pace.

“Your walls don’t scare me.” He swallows, his eyes flicking to my lips. “What now?”

It’s two simple words. To anyone else, they wouldn’t warrant a reaction, but I know what he’s asking. What he’s giving me.

A choice.

He’s letting me decide if I’m still locking him out or finally opening the door he’s been desperately knocking at for months.

It’s not much of a question, though, because I don’t have to think about it at all.

I lean in, brushing my lips across his in a slow kiss. His hand slides from my cheek into my hair, holding me while he melts against me. It’s like his entire body has released a sigh of relief from the simple contact of my lips against his.

He pulls back just slightly, eyes searching mine for some sort of permission that he doesn’t need. I brush my nose against his and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t stop. He takes his time exploring my mouth, teasing his tongue across my lips and into my mouth, in slow circles.

Every kiss we’ve shared before this has felt like a collision. Months of frustration and attraction finally finding somewhere to go. This feels more deliberate.

His mouth moves against mine with a patience I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before, and every time I pull back to catch my breath, he follows with another kiss that somehow feels even more intimate than the last.

I lose track of time and everything except the way my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.

At some point, he shifts closer until one of his arms is braced beside my head, and he’s half hovering over me on the blanket. I slide my hand into his hair, and he exhales against my mouth, the sound low and rough, sending a shiver through me.

A startled laugh from somewhere nearby finally pulls me back to reality, and I pull back from him. He groans and drops his forehead against my shoulder.

I glance around, only now realizing how dark it’s gotten.

“We should probably go.”

The drive back is quieter than the ride over, and when he slides his hand into mine, as if it’s something he’s done a million times before, I find myself holding on tighter than I should.

By the time we pull up to my apartment complex, my pulse is racing because neither of us seems eager to say goodnight.

I look over at him, and the corners of my mouth lift.

“Do you want to come inside?”

His expression softens. “I don’t have to.”

“And if I want you to?”

He grins, climbing out of the car and opening my door for me.

The entire way up the stairs to my apartment, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous. I’ve literally already had sex with this man. Hell, I’ve had his head between my legs in a public bathroom for fuck’s sake. There is no reason my palms should be sweating like I’m some high schooler about to have her first kiss.

I rub my hands against my jeans in the entryway while he sets his keys on the counter. Refusing to let my nerves hold me back, I blow out a breath before crossing the space between us. His hands find my waist at the exact same moment mine find his shirt.