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Unstoppable.
“I’m so sorry for doing this again.” The words come hiccupped through sobs.
I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing tight, and he returns the embrace, his hands pulling tighter around my back, holding me to him.
He shouldn’t feel safe, but he does.
So, I let myself cry.
And I don’t know how long I sit there.
Minutes, hours, days.
I don’t know.
I just know that he doesn’t let me go, not even once.
Not even to take a sip from his damn tea cup.
He just holds me until, finally, when my throat is raw and the tears have dried on my cheeks, I pull back, still on his lap, my hands falling down his back.
And I lean in to kiss him.
Eight
Luna
I feel myself leaning in before I can stop myself.
Luna, stop. God, for fuck’s sake, stop.
But it doesn’t matter.
Because as realization dawns in his eyes, he doesn’t move.
For the tiniest of fragments of time, he doesn’t even want to move; I know he doesn’t.
But then he leans back, his lips making contact with my forehead—gentle, kind.
Devastating.
“Oh my god! I’m such a fucking idiot!” I yell, scrambling, climbing off him, embarrassment flooding my body.
“Luna. Wait,” he calls after me as I stumble over to the window.
“Just, don’t.” I hold my hands up, stopping him. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay. It’s fine,” he insists, getting to his feet, but he doesn’t come join me at the window.
“I… I… I don’t know what happened.”
“Well, obviously you were overcome by my handsomeness.”
“Kingsley,” I groan, banging my head on the window, half wishing it would shatter into a hundred gazillion pieces and let me fall to my very deserved, squishy death on the concrete sidewalk fifty floors down. “Was that a joke?”
“No. Why would it be a joke? I am very handsome.”
I let out a laugh because what else is there to do in this moment? I just cried in his lap for forever and a day and then tried to molest him with my lips. Now he’s trying to make me feel better by making a joke, so the least I can do is laugh.
