Because for me, they feel too big, tooimpossible, when our future is basically a giant question mark.
So instead I frame his face with both hands, feeling the scrape of his stubble against my palms.
“And you matter to me,” I tell him quietly, hating myself for not saying the real three words.
Still, when he kisses me again, it’s different. Not desperate like before but slower, more deliberate.
I make an embarrassing sound against his mouth. Something between a sob and a moan that would be mortifying under any other circumstances.
But right now?
I don’t care.
Because Gregory Falk just told me I matter more than anything and I told him he matters, too, and we both know exactly what we’re really saying without having to make it official. Well I know exactly what I’m saying, anyway, even if he doesn’t, and...
Ah, that’s probably the most emotionally constipated thing I’ve ever thought, but whatever.
I’ll work on it.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard again.
“We should--” I start. “The dish...”
“Yeah,” he agrees, but neither of us moves.
His thumb traces my bottom lip and I feel it everywhere. I’m super aware of every point of contact. The armrest beneath me.His thigh between my legs. His hand still tangled in my hair. The way he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to a question he didn’t know he was asking.
“The roof can wait another hour,” he murmurs.
“Can it, though?” But even as I say it, I’m already wrapping my legs around his hips, pulling him closer.
“It has to.” His voice drops to that tone that makes my panties insta-wet. “Because I need you. Right now.”
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Yes please.
He lifts me off the sectional like I weigh nothing. Which, given the size difference between us, I probably do. To him, anyway.
He carries me the few steps to our makeshift sleeping area by the fireplace.
The blankets we’ve been sharing there are still rumpled from this morning. There are coffee mugs sitting nearby. The fire crackling away in front of it like it has been since that first night.
This space.
This room.
It’s been our entire world.
And somehow, it’s become home.
He sets me down gently on the blankets, then just stands there looking at me, his hair limned by the morning light from the windows.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Just looking at you.” His voice is thick with want. “Trying to figure out how the hell I got this lucky.”
