“Oh.” That felt like ages ago, like we’d been here for a lifetime already, and I wanted three more lifetimes. Ten. A thousand.
“I feel like pouncing on you every time I see you. I feel like you could touch me for days and it still wouldn’t be enough. I feel like you hide all your hurt because you’re afraid of someone adding to it, but you don’t have to hide with me.”
I tried pulling my hand away from his, not enjoying this feeling at all.
Enjoying it way too much.
Hating that I enjoyed it.
Being seen.
He saw everything, and I wasn’t afraid of that at all.
Dakota just smiled and held my hand against his face even more firmly, not letting me get away. “Hold on, I’m not done.”
“Dakota—”
“I like you. How pissed off you get. I never knew I could feel this way about another person. Never really imagined myself ever feeling like this, but now that I do…I don’t ever want this feeling to go away. It’s… honestly, it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt. When I’m with you, I feel like…like I could do anything. Like I couldbeanything.” He seemed to think about something for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Or not. I could fail in the most embarrassing way, but it would be okay—because you’d be right there, helping me try again. Or just glaring at me, like you’re doing now. I dunno, Reese, I just…I really fucking like you.”
“Dakota…”
“And I really like it when you say my name like that.”
I tried swallowing past the thick lump in my throat. “Like what?”
“Like I’m the only one who can give you the answers you’re looking for.”
Fuck.
“Can you?” I whispered.
He brushed his nose against mine. “Depends on the question.”
What if the question wascan you ever forgive me for lying to you? Can you ever truly love me when I’ve never been one hundred percent truthful with you? What is this? What are we doing? What are we?
I was too afraid to ask him any of those things. Too afraid to admit what I’d done, too afraid of saying the wrong thing and pushing him away, too afraid of not saying the right thing and having him walk away.
The thought that I would be the reason he ultimately left was too much. My throat thickened, and I closed my eyes to try and stop the tears, but that was pointless because they came anyway.
“You’re just trying to turn me on, aren’t you?” he murmured, brushing away the tears.
A wet laugh mixed with a sob choked from my throat, and I sputtered out, “Shut up, asshole.”
But fuck…
He made me laugh, even as it felt like I was being smothered by this horrible sadness. He made me laugh, and that…that was the most beautiful thing. He took my pain and turned it into something beautiful.
He peppered my face with tiny kisses, and I’d never felt so much deep affection for someone that wasn’t my family.
I hadn’t felt like this about anyone, and it had been such a long time that I’d cared about another person on this level that I’d forgotten how much I’d missed this kind of connection.
A connection I didn’t deserve.
But in spite of feeling so undeserving, I was crushingly desperate for him. Forthis. For everything he had to offer—everything hewasoffering me.
I knew how dangerous desperation could be. How it easily it could drive someone over the edge, to plunge them into a darkness within themselves they didn’t even know existed.
It was awful and all-consuming, and I never wanted to be desperate for anything in my life. Ever. But I was desperate forhim, desperate for his nearness, his touches, his smiles and the sadness he hid deep inside and pretended wasn’t there. His love and his laughter. I was desperate to have all his attention, just like he wanted from me, and that…terrified me. Truly terrified me, right down to my brittle bones. But the fear wasn’t enough to make me stop. Nothing short of death would kill this desperation, I was pretty sure.
