"Then why come back now? Why show up at my door after weeks of radio silence?"
"Because I'm an idiot?" He lets out this broken laugh. "I miss you. I keep making stupid jokes to empty rooms and reaching for my phone to tell you about them. My life is imploding at home, and things are changing, and you're not there to help me through it." His eyes find mine, desperate and lost. "I can't figure out how to do this right. Any of it. I only know that being apart feels wrong, and being with you terrifies me, and I—"
"Stop." I press my hands against his chest, hating how my body still craves his warmth. "You don't get to do this. You can't ghost me for weeks and then show up with half-apologies and confessions when it's convenient."
"Ivy—"
"No, I'm done with the mixed signals." My voice cracks but I push on. "One minute you're holding me like I matter, the next you're gone without a word. You get jealous when other guys talk to me, but you won't actually do anything about it." Tears burn behind my eyes. "I'm tired of being your safe place to land when you're lonely. Done watching you date half of Hallow's End while I wait for you to finally see me. I'm just . . . exhausted."
"You think I don't notice you? You'reallI see. That's what scares the shit out of me." His fingers catch my wrist, thumb finding my pulse. "Tell me what you want, Shortcake.Please."
"You know what?" I pull my hand away, something finally breaking loose. "I'm done being the one who has to have all the answers, who has to take charge of every emotional conversation while you hide behind jokes and maybes. I deserve someone who's all in, who doesn't need a crisis to realize I'm here."
"I'm here now!" His voice cracks with frustration. "That has to count for something? I don't even know what this is supposed to be." His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. "Everything's changing, nothing feels the same, and I'm—"
"If you can't figure out what you want without me drawing you a map, then I think it's best if you—"
His mouth crashes into mine, cutting me off, and there's nothing gentle about it—just panic and need. Fingers knot in my hair as he angles my head, tongue sweeping deep. I moan, the sound lost between us, and something in him snaps. He drags me closer, nearly into his lap, deepening the kiss until the room tilts.
This is a horrible idea.
I should push him away.
But god,the way he's kissing me. All desperate, like he's been starving for this too. Like maybe I wasn't wrong about that night, and this is him choosing us. Caleb's hands tremble against my face, and my chest splits wide, because this isn't the kiss of someone who doesn't want me.
This is need. Raw and honest in a way his words never are.
I'm going to regret this. But I want him so badly it physically hurts. Right now, I don't care about anything else.
One second I'm drowningin how fucking much I want her. The next, I'm kissing Ivy like I can convince her to stay with just my mouth.
Everything I've been holding in crashes through me at once. Weeks of wanting, of avoiding, of pretending I'm not completely fucked when it comes to her. When she opens for me, I lose whatever scraps of control I had left. She kisses me back, but there's something in the way her hands shake against my chest. Like she's fighting herself as much as she's fighting me.
"Just once," I pant against her mouth, lying to both of us because I already know once will never be enough. "Let me have you just once."
She hesitates but then nods, and I yank off my shirt, terrified she'll change her mind; realize what a massive mistake this is. When my hands find skin under her top, she shivers, andfuck—I should slow down. Should worshipevery inch of her.
Instead, I'm all trembling need and clumsy touches, rushing like maybe if I get enough of her now, it won't destroy me when she walks away. It's been weeks since I touched anyone. Because the moment I realized every other girl was a poor imitation of what I really wanted, I couldn't bring myself to pretend anymore.
This isn't making love. This is drowning. This is taking whatever scraps she'll give me before she realizes I'm not enough. Before she sees through every fake smile and stupid joke to the truth—that I'm the town fuckup who somehow convinced the literal sun to notice him.
Everything narrows down to sensation. The way she bites my bottom lip, how her breath catches when I drag my mouth down her throat, her soft hands as they slide up my chest.
When she arches against me, I almost lose it. I kiss down her throat, tasting her pulse, marking her skin like I can brand myself into her memory. She rolls her hips experimentally in my lap, and I groan, already halfway to wrecked. My body's running on pure instinct, brain offline except formoreandnowandplease don't let this be the last time.
"Fuck, babe . . ." I grip her waist too hard, desperate to anchor myself to something real, but she rocks against me again. And again. Until I'm nothing but need and want and the terrifying certainty that I'm going to mess this up.
Her skin is soft beneath my palms as I ease her shirt up. She's wearing a sexy lacy bra that makes my mouth go dry. I want to memorize every inch while I still can, but my movements are rough and graceless, shoving the fabric aside.
My mouth finds her breast, tongue circling her nipple before sucking hard. Her nails rake down my back and I hiss against her skin, the pain grounding me for half a breath before I'm lost again. When my fingers slip between her thighs, finding her already wet, Igroan. Her shorts are gone a heartbeat later, her hips rocking against my hand, desperate for more.
I slip two fingers inside her, but the angle's off—because of course it is. I can't even get this right. Still, she lets out a broken sound that goes straight to my cock and has me wanting to stay buried in this moment forever. I should take her apart until there's nothing left but pleasure. Until every reason this is an awful idea dissolves on her tongue.
But I need her.Now.
Like oxygen, like salvation, like everything I've never deserved.
My zipper's digging painfully into my stomach, and every little noise she makes shreds another piece of my control. I kiss her again, all teeth and need, like if I devour her whole, she won't notice how fucking terrified I am. She grinds against me and my brain whites out—because this isIvy. The girl who deserves candlelight and slow touches, and someone who knows what the hell they're doing. Not this desperate, clawing thing I've become.
