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“It was a misunderstanding. Luna. Let me explain.”
I run my hands through my hair, unable to think with the push and pull from every side. “Alex, can you give me a minute to talk to Kingsley, please?”
He shakes his head. “‘Luna, no, you don’t have to—”
“For fuck’s sake, she asked you to leave!” Kingsley says, his voice rough with frustration.
Alex gives me a look and I nod, reassuring him, and he sighs, pushing past Kingsley as he steps out of the office. But not before he turns back and says, “You better be careful, Baxter.”
Kingsley ignores him, waiting for the office door to close before he takes another step toward me.
I don’t know how I can be so conflicted.
I want to run to him. I want to push my body so close against his that we’re back in that space where I can’t tell the difference between his body and mine.
But I also can’t forget the way his eyes shut himself off to me again as he pulled the door closed between us.
I’ve never felt more confused or hurt than I have in that one moment.
And I’m not sure I can ever put myself in that position again.
“Where did you go?” he says, so low I have to strain to hear him.
“I’m not really sure you’re the one who should be asking that question, Kingsley.”
He grimaces, and his eyes flutter closed for a second before he fixes them on me again.
“Look, I…”
“You what? You’re sorry?”
“No, I…”
“You’re not sorry? That sounds more like the Kingsley I’ve come to know.” I throw my hands up, stepping over to Alex’s office desk.
“Luna, wait. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean? For once, use your words when it comes to me, Kingsley. You were so good with them when you were telling me about what you wanted from me last night. Or have you forgotten the way you told me to come for you? Did I just imagine that?”
Pain etches itself all over his face. “I know. I should’ve explained. I shouldn’t have just walked away.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. If you didn’t want me, you should’ve just said it.”
He growls, the sound rumbling, shaking the whole room, and stalks over to me, then pushes me up against the desk, gripping my chin.
“I told you not to ever say that I don’t want you, didn’t I?”
There’s nowhere to look but right into his eyes.
He gives my face a tiny shake and repeats his words. “Or maybe you didn’t hear me. So I’m going to repeat it. Don’t you ever fucking dare say, think, or believe that I don’t want you. Not for a single moment. Not wanting you is not why I walked away. It’s why I’m here. So promise me.”
I try to shake my head, still not wanting to believe him, but he holds it still.
“Promise me, moonshine,” he whispers, using the name he called me last night, his lips brushing mine.
The room spins, knocking me off my feet, but he holds me steady.
“I promise.”
