He’s watching me with guarded blue eyes.
Logic might not be my default, but I get it. I get why he’s guarded.
Our families have fought for years.
We’re “breaking up” sometime in the next two days.
All of this week has been an intense experience with my big mouth and his bigger idea throwing us together in intimate situations that we both know aren’t real.
But I like him.
I do.
He’s kind. He’s patient. He looks at me like there’s no problem in this world that we can’t solve if we stay united, and it’s so different, but soright.
“I like you too much,” I add. “It makes me mad that the entire world can’t see you for the wonderful man that you are.”
He visibly swallows.
I close the half step between us and reach for his tie.
He doesn’t stop me.
My fingers shake as I undo the waterlogged silk tie.
I can’t fix his family. I can’t fix mine.
But I can show him how much he matters.
How special he is.
“You’re cold.” His voice is thick and gruff.
“So are you.” I get the tie off and move on to his top shirt button.
He still doesn’t stop me.
I flick button after button until I reach where his shirt is tucked into his pants.
Andoh.
He might be cold, but that’s not stopping him from tenting the front of his trousers.
“Amanda—” he rasps.
I cut him off by leaning in and pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his collarbone while I pull his shirt out, feeling his chest rise as he sucks in a quick breath.
I want him.
I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to lead him on. I know that if I do this, if I kiss him again, if I keep undressing him, if we follow this path, everything changes.
We won’t get married on Monday.
But maybe we’ll be—something.
Something good.
He doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t tell me to stop.
