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Anger fires through me, pulsing through my veins like a fucking tsunami, and I clench my hands into fists, unable to control the recklessness pounding within me. “You’re a fucking child, Aspen.”
She laughs, looking at me with such disdain it fucking breaks me. “Oh, real nice. I’m the fucking child? I’m the one fighting for something real while you’re the one backing away, too fucking scared of his own damn shadow to even understand what he’s feeling,” she seethes, pushing into me, her hand hard against my chest.
“Don’t fucking push me on this,” I spit, feeling my patience slipping out of my grasp.
“Do I feel like a child when you fuck me, Izaac?” she pushes, stepping into me and forcing me to back up. “Do I feel like a child when you bend me over a fucking table and slide that big cock deep inside of me? When my body gets you so fucking worked up and you grip my hips and come hard inside of me, are you thinking I’m a child then?”
I clench my jaw, slipping faster than ever before. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Then be fucking real with me and stop throwing excuses around to try and deter me. I’m not walking away from this.”
The last of my control slips, and I grab her, throwing her up against the fucking door and forcing a loud gasp from deep in her chest. “You want the fucking truth?” I roar, my fingers gripping her so damn tight. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my goddamn life, and it fucking kills me that I can’t be what you need. The mere thought of anyone else putting their hands on you drives me insane. And when I told you I’d never love you, it’s not because I don’t want to, because believe me, I fucking want to. I want it so fucking bad it aches. I can’t love you because I’m not capable of it. I don’t know how.”
My breath comes in sharp, ragged pants as I come back to earth, realizing what the fuck I just said, exposing my deepest insecurity and revealing my vulnerabilities, but I watch as the fight visibly leaves her.
Aspen lifts her hand to my cheek, her green eyes softening as my grip loosens on her body. “You big asshole,” she breathes. “Of course you’re capable of it. You’ve been doing it since the day I met you. You show love in the way you’ve always protected me, ever since I was a little girl, in how you look for me in every room, in how you always want the best for me.”
I shake my head. “That’s different. That’s just . . . growing up together.”
“Perhaps. But this here, you coming to get me tonight and going to extremes just to make sure I am okay. You put your own hang-ups on hold just to help me through that, and when you finally grabbed me and pulled me into your arms like you’d never let me go, that is love,” she explains. “This crazy need to have each other like at Cherry, the need to always be in the same room, the need to fight for something because nothing else has ever felt so real. I don’t know why or how you ever allowed yourself to believe that you weren’t capable of it, but you are. You are, and you do know how. You do it every fucking day.”
“Aspen.”
She shakes her head, her fingers brushing across my jaw and dropping to my shirt before bunching into the material. “You love me.”
“I—”
She smiles wide, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, fucking crippling me with the way her eyes shine within the darkened room. “You, Izaac Banks, are in love with me.”
My chest heaves with terror-filled breath, the truth lingering right there between us, and whether I have the balls to admit that she’s right or not, it makes no difference.
Aspen breathes just as heavily as I do, and when she falls back against the door and lifts her chin, I see determination in her eyes. She pulls against her hold on my shirt, forcing me in. “Kiss me.”
My eyes widen as something grips hold of my heart, squeezing too fucking tight I could burst. “What?”
“You heard me,” she relentlessly insists, pulling against my shirt as my hands turn into fists. Does she know what she’s asking of me? It’s practically the first rule in the Aspen and Izaac guidelines. No kissing. I don’t fucking kiss anyone, but those lips . . . they’re so fucking full. I’d give anything to taste them. It’s the only part of her I’ve never claimed. “Kiss me.”
My hands shake, and when I don’t make a move, I see the frustration begin creeping into her eyes again. If I do this, there’s no going back. I’ll never be able to separate myself from her again or survive without her. But I stand by what I’ve always said. I’ll never be enough for her. She’s too fucking good, and I’m a broken piece of shit who’ll never be able to completely open up and give her what she needs.
It shouldn’t be this hard. She shouldn’t be forced to fight with the man she loves just to get any type of affection. It should be easy.
I shake my head, the deepest regret booming through my chest as everything I’ve ever wanted stands right before me, begging for me to take it. “I can’t.”
I go to pull away but she tightens her grip on my shirt, pulling me back to her, and the way she looks at me, the way she holds me captive can’t be ignored. “Break the fucking rules and kiss me, Izaac.”
Every last shred of control shatters into a million broken pieces, and I launch myself toward her. My hand grips the back of her neck, and as my other snakes around her back and pulls her in, I crush my lips to hers, kissing her deeply. Aspen gasps into my mouth as though not having expected me to break, but she quickly relaxes into my arms, her body molding against mine as though it were always supposed to be right there.
Her full lips move against mine, and I fucking die.
How could I have not been kissing her since the moment this started? Every nerve in my body is on edge, desperately craving more, and I greedily take everything she’s giving, my tongue working into her mouth and warring with hers.
She tastes like fucking heaven, like a fallen angel gifted right into my arms, and I was right. How could I ever let her go now?
I’m in love with this woman, and I’ve been so fucking blind.
Aspen has been right here this whole time, daring me to love her back, begging me to give in to what she already knew was right there. She could have walked away at any time, could have given up on me a million times over, but she stayed and fought for what she believed in.
A fierce desperation booms through me, and I scoop her up into my arms, her legs locking around my waist as I yank the door open and stride down to my bedroom. She groans into my mouth, and before I’m even a few steps down the hall, I reach for the small zipper at the back of her dress—the same fucking dress she tortured me with earlier this evening.
