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“You’re angry,” Andre says, reading me so easily. Like always. “At me? For kissing you?”
Miserable, I shake my head. That’s thelastthing I’m mad at him about—hell, it’s the only thing that’s gone right between us.
And look, I know that I’m handling this terribly. Know that I’m probably throwing my single chance with this man away—but there’s a siren blaring in the back of my brain, and all my instincts are yelling: DANGER!
Because what if he changes his mind?
What if Andre kisses me, and touches me, and gives me a taste of how amazing things would be with him… then takes it away? What if he decides I really am too young and inexperienced for him after all?
It’s not like I have any sexual prowess to rely on. I have no signature moves to make this encounter good. And he already thinks I’m too young for him, so when he realizes he’s popping my cherry too, that I’m gonna be clumsy and terrible on my first time, there’s noway—
“Faith, sweetheart.” He rebuttons his jeans. Two warm hands cup the sides of my face, tilting my head up to look at him, and steady brown eyes hold mine. “You’re spiraling. Tell me where I went wrong, please. I can’t bear this.”
He can’t?
…Oh.
No, he really can’t. If Andre seemed worn thin when he knocked on my door this morning, right now… he’s wrecked. Staring down at me, forehead creased, like he’s ready to throw himself on the nearest pyre if it means I’ll be happy again. Already blaming himself for the meltdown happening in my brain.
“I’m just…” Wetting my lips, I grip Andre’s forearms to anchor myself. They’re toned and warm and dusted with dark hair, and this is a side note: Andre has very handsome wrists. Sturdy as iron. “I feel…”
He stares down at me, expression bleak. And I’m torturing him with my non-answer, I know I am, but I can’t find the words to say how I feel. Sure, I can write an anonymous stranger a whole letter pouring out my heart and soul, but when it comes to someone in my real life… I never confess this stuff.
But maybe I canshowhim.
Lunging forward, I kiss him on the mouth—hard. It’s a bruising kiss, desperate and angry, and I nip his bottom lip before pulling away.
Andre blinks. His chest rises and falls, and his eyes rove over my mouth, my throat, the wafer-thin white vest top and patterned PJ shorts I slept in—but he keeps himself in check.
“What was that?” my neighbor rasps.
“An angry kiss.” As soon as I say the words out loud, I bite my lip against a reluctant smile. It’s so ridiculous, but now that it’s out there—I feel lighter already.
Dear Hattie’s always telling people in her column that they need to express themselves, that the truth will set them free, but I’ve never realized how right she is before now.
“So youaremad at me,” Andre says slowly, drawing me close. His grip is loose on me, giving me an out any time I want it. “But not for kissing you.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Gusting out a long sigh, I shrug. Whatever I say now will sound insane—because it is. I’m not rational this morning. I’m a mad tangle of sleep deprived emotions and deepest fears, and the only thing that helps is his hands on me. Now that I’m back in his arms, I’m more settled already, my racing pulse slowing down.
“For taking so long, I guess. For leaving me lonely all these years. And for something you haven’t even done yet.”
Andre’s dark eyes brim with sorrow. “What’s that?”
“Changing your mind,” I whisper. He’s got me close again now, our bodies sealed together, heart beats knocking on each other’s chests. “Realizing this is a mistake, and that you don’t want me after all.”
“Faith?” It’s Andre’s turn to look pissed off, and his hold on me is almost rough. I don’t mind. Ilikefeeling his control waver—feeling the desperation claw through. I like the proof that I’m not the only person driven wild by this maelstrom of feelings. “Never. Going. To happen.”
And he’s always been a man of few words, but when he ducks down and kisses me again, dirty and deep, it’s clear that he really is done. That is all Andre Silva has to say on the matter. In his mind: case closed.
He wants me. He’s decided.
He’s in this for life.
And maybe it is that simple. Maybe as time goes on and the kisses mount up, as our days together blur into weeks and months, I’ll believe it too. Not just on an intellectual level, but deep in the marrow of my bones.
