“Maybe if I get rid of every danger in your life, you’ll finally see me and not whatever it is that I remind you of, whatever past trauma that has you hesitating when I can feel you wanting to give in. Don’t mistake me respecting your needs as not being interested in you.”
I pause to swallow the dryness in my mouth, the emotion threatening to surface, and then hang my head as I try to cool down.
“If I’ve pushed too much on you, I get it,” I tell her softly. “I can step back. But don’t fucking lie to me about it. Don’t push me away because you think it’s what’s best for me. I can handle the truth. I can handle rejection and waiting however long you need because I’m willing to wait for this. I can wait for you… But I’mnot letting you push me out because you think no one can love you.”
A muscle in her jaw feathers as she stares at me. I’m ready to surrender any way she wants me to, even leave this trailer and just do my job. Forget even being her stalker anymore because clearly, I’m hurting her more every time I show up.
I’m hurting her.
She should stay far away from me.
I’m just as bad as them.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that it takes her hand on my cheek to pull me out of the daze. My ears begin to ring when I look at her, my chest warming. Hardly any dark blue remains around her blown pupils. I brace my hand against hers on my face.
“Please don’t push me out,” I say softly.
“Pushing people away is a love language I learned early,” she whispers. “If I push you away, it’s because you mean enough that I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me,” I almost beg. “Pain is my love language.”
Her gaze moves to my lips as she wraps an arm around my neck and pulls me closer. My forehead hits hers, eyes closing…
“Bonnie…” I’m barely able to catch my breath.
“Don’t think,” she breathes, her lips brushing mine. She kisses me lightly, and my knees weaken at just the soft glimpse. She does it again. Again. Again. And by the fifth time, I’m so weak that I completely forget what we were just talking about.
And without a thought in my head, I kiss her the way I’ve always wanted to kiss her.
I kiss her as if I’m giving her my soul.
And Bonnie…
She kisses me back as if she’s giving me hers.
Kissing her with the mask was only ever a bonus.
Kissing her in that blindfold was only ever a thrill.
This…
Fucking hell,this…
I never want to come up for air.
She kisses as if she’s as distressed about our situation as I am, as if she craves me as much as I do her. A thousand things dare to threaten the escape her lips have given me, each thought determined to pull me out of this moment.
Even so, at the noise of her groaning into my mouth, my mind melts once again.
Bonnie fucking Miller is kissing…me.
Not the mask.
I don’t care that this is more than likely some poor attempt to tell herself that fucking her stalker again meant nothing, that she’s probably trying to disguise her guilt with more sabotage.
I don’t care.
I can’t get enough of her.
