Page 37 of All The Ways to Miss You

They’re words I didn’t expect, dangerous words, because they make me relax and give me hope, even though I should remain guarded.

Unsure, I adjust my stance and search his features. “I don’t know.” That one thought shows I’m granting this night more weight than I should. We’ve connected in a way I never expected, so far beyond the boundaries of sex.

“I still owe you a shower.” He playfully lifts me, distracting me from the lingering question. He’s unwilling to let this night end yet.

Wrapped in his arms, I’m transported elsewhere. My only concern now is to relish our time together. All we have is tonight, so I must burrow into it like a tight sweater and stretch each second until we fit perfect.

He carries me down the hall and tosses me on his bed. Laid out on the mattress, I scoot back when he descends. One knee at a time, he crawls over me, a prowling animal. He drops beside me and squeezes me against his body until we’re twined naked in each other’s arms, like pretend lovers.

He kisses my neck. The muscles quiver, and I want to fold over on our point of contact so I can live in that perfect spot. My breath lodges tight in my chest when I close my eyes, imagining this happening every night. Risky territory, I know, but I’ve already seen us together in my mind, and I like the comfort I find there.

Evan’s breath whispers over my temple. “So . . .”

“So.” I watch him.

The air churns, thick with possibility. It swirls with the kind of expectations that makes me believe this can only happen at the beginning of a relationship. Whatever we say or do here will determine our fate.

Since I arrived, I’ve run from any unknown factors, but Evan draws me out and into his beautiful world. But still, there’s this wall of silence growing between us. Perhaps if I charge forward with a sledgehammer, I’ll crack and shatter it so we can be closer.

I clear my throat to take the first wide-arching swing. “This could be the first time you haven’t had something to say.”

Crack.

“I always have something to say. Sometimes I just don’t say it.”

Swing.

“So say it.”

Crack.

He gives me the tiniest of squeezes. “Thank you.”

Swing.

“Thank you?” I laugh. “That’s it? No witty jabs? No sexual innuendos?”

“No. I . . . I needed you.” His voice trails off, his words fading into the noise of my thoughts.

He needed me?

Shatter. The wall between us explodes into a million shimmering fragments of possibility.

My heart pounds with fervor because I mirror his truth. I needed to be with someone, though I didn’t realize it until he kissed me like he cared all those nights ago. Maybe, just maybe, I needed Evan too.

I want to tell him the words teetering on the tip of my tongue. Their curves and lines stand defined on the cliff of my lips, ready to spill over, but the traitors tremble, holding back the truth. They know better, know that saying it out aloud would alarm him. So I pull them back, tugging the words inside. They tumble across my tongue and into my dry throat. I swallow them whole, and they settle like lumps inside me. If they were real, they would choke me.

No matter how sincere those thoughts have become, I need to keep them guarded. If I told him I liked him, thought of him, hoped for more with him, his warmth might slip away like fading daylight and return me to my darkness. Even though he’s proclaimed his truth, mine will hold a deeper meaning. One that says he was right all along, that I can’t handle this.

“How can a man so talented with his hands, suck so bad at being a handyman?” I ask playfully, going for what we’re good at. Banter.

“That’s not the jab you think, Cat.” He chuckles.

In seconds, snuggling becomes tickling, and I’m pinned on the mattress beneath his hulking body, his wriggling fingers tickling my rib cage. I yelp with laughter, begging him to stop.

He pins my hands above my head. I’m out of breath, my breasts pointing skyward, my chest heaving and my back arched toward him. He leans forward and kisses me. His lips linger on mine, like he’s memorizing them. And I do the same with him—full bottom lip, arched upper, and both controlling and addictive, each tasting like heaven.

He opens his eyes. His body draws away onto bent knees, but he’s still straddling me. “You want to go for a run?”