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She looked down at our bodies, hers straddling mine as I sat against the side of my bed, hard as a freaking rock. “I guess our bodies are.”
“I’ve missed kissing you,” I said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her neck. She shivered at my touch. Running her fingers through my hair, she leaned in to press her forehead to mine again.
“Me, too. I don’t want to, but I do.”
“Please forgive me, Tilly. Please just…find a way to forgive me.”
She tensed and eased herself off my lap. Turning away, I saw her wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I should go.”
“Till.”
“Wyatt,” she said with pained eyes. “Let me go, okay?”
I nodded in submission. “Okay. But you have to let me walk you home. We don’t have to talk or anything. I just need to know that you get home safely.”
“All right.”
“Should we go out the window?” I asked, trying to salvage the night. Trying desperately to bring back the levity from hours before when she suggested the same thing. “It’s more fun that way…”
“No,” she said, scratching her forehead. “The front door is fine.”
And even though, just moments before, Tilly’s lips crushed mine and her thighs pressed against my own, that intimacy, that closeness had evaporated as quickly as hit had appeared. And although she was standing right next to me, it had been years since she felt this far away.
