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I didn’t want to have to go through that again. Especially now that I... know you.
Had she felt as disappointed when I pulled away as I had been when I thought she’d done the same?
“Cassie, I...” I feel a bit calmer now but no less dumbfounded. “I did like you. Ididwant to meet up.”
She finally looks at me, and I hate that her eyes are wet because of me. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to disappear,” I explain. “When it happened... I had just found out that Rebecca died. That month was insane. I was worrying for Sophie, and making arrangements, and trying to figure out how to restructure my entire life. By the time I was able to pull my head out of the water and breathe again, weeks had passed by without me realizing it. And when I came back to apologize...”
“I’d deleted my account,” she whispers.
I nod solemnly. “I thought that I was the one who misunderstood.”
I watch her mouth part with surprise, all the pieces clicking together, and I realize none of this had occurred to her before this moment. That she’s actually spent the better part of a year thinking that after everything we said, it had all been transactional after all. That I never cared about her like I made her believe. She’d been so afraid, that even now, even after I can’t seem to go a day without touching her or without being close to her—I’d toss her aside.
I can’t help it; it’s the question that’s been on my mind ever since I logged back in to find her account scrubbed. “Where did you go?”
“I...”
I watch her teeth worry at her lip as her cheeks redden. Her eyes dart away like she’s embarrassed.
“I couldn’t do it anymore. After you disappeared. I know it’s probably silly, but... I missed you, and I thought that you had dropped off the face of the earth, and I just...” She sucks in a breath, her eyes still wet. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”
It all feels surreal. Like any moment I’ll wake up in my bed and none of this will have happened. How is it even possible that out of all the people in this city who could have answered my ad it was her? That the one person that Sophie needed most, could also be the one person thatIneeded most, without even having realized it?
“I understand if you need me to leave,” Cassie says stoically, her lip trembling. “But I didn’t mean to keep it from you like this. I just... didn’t know how to tell you.”
Maybe asking her to leaveisthe sensible course of action. Maybe a more rational man would scold me for not even considering the thought. But regardless of our strange past and our stranger present and everything in between, the thought that bothers me most is Cassie walking out my door and never coming back. It probably doesn’t make sense for me to feel that way; we knownothingabout each other that could warrant me feeling so possessive of her, like I can’t let her go, but...
It doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.
“I don’t,” I tell her finally, my voice thick. “Want you to leave.”
Her eyes are wide when they find mine again. “You’re not mad?”
“No, I am,” I assert, and when she starts to look crestfallen again, I add, “but not because you kept this a secret.”
“What?”
“I’m angry that you dealt with this alone. I’m angry that youspent all this time worrying that I would push you away without giving me the chance to tell you that there is absolutelynoway I’m letting you get away again.”
Her breath catches, and she looks so sweet in this moment; her hair is falling down from her messy bun in pieces around her face, her mouth is parted in a soft, quiet way that begs for me to kiss her, and her eyes—her eyes hold so much relief that it makes something in my chest hurt.
I’m careful when I reach for her, approaching her like a frightened animal that might run, and for all intents and purposes, she could still do that. I notice she’s still trembling slightly when my hands cup her jaw, her lashes fluttering closed as her fingers wrap around my wrist. Maybe it’s imprudent of me to be as elated as I am to know that it’sher—that the person I find myself losing all my senses for today is the same person who drove me crazy back then. Her eyes are closed when I lean in, and I can feel that slight wetness at her lashes against my cheek when my lips touch hers.
She tastes sweet.Like wine and something that is inherently Cassie, and I find myself pulling her closer to try to taste more, something that is becoming a habit whenever I touch her. Like no matter how much I have of her, it’s somehow never enough.
I feel her fingers sneaking under my shirt, finding the raised skin near my navel as she teases at my scar. It makes me shiver, her touch paired with the knowledge of everything attached to these marks on our bodies—the realization of all I’ve said to her and all I’ve seen of her crashing down on me like a wave. How many times did I wish I could touch her like this? How many times did I wish I could find out if her lips were as soft as they looked?
How is it possible that after all this time, I would find the answer to all those questions in such an unexpected way?
I should take her to her room, I know that, but I can’t seem tostop touching her long enough to do that. Almost as if I give her an inch she might slip right through my fingers. I push her deeper into the alcove behind the stairs, my hands at her waist and her hips and everywhere else I can reach as her tongue touches mine sending me into a bit of a frenzy.
I dip my head to rest my lips against her shoulder as I urge her to turn, and there is only a hint of hesitation as she obliges, giving me her back as her hands brace against the wall. I let my mouth wander, teasing the raised skin between her shoulder blades in a way that I haven’t had a chance to do yet. I feel her shiver as my tongue traces the shape of her scar, her spine curving to bend into the insistent press of my mouth even as my fingers find the snaps of her bra to pop them open. Her back being bare only makes it easier to explore, and if I didn’t feel so restless right now, it might even be something I could spend all night doing. I tell myself I’ll have time later.
She looks breathless when I turn her to face me again, helping me when I urge her bra off to let it drop to the floor. Her breath is heavy, and for a second I am mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts as if begging me to touch them. I hold her gaze when I bend down to slide my lips against the swell, closing my eyes and focusing on the thumping of her pulse against my mouth.
“Your heart is beating so fast.”
