I brush the back of my hand across her cheek. "I meant what I said. Tonight was my fault. I should have protectedyou. I should have made sure you felt safe, not like a fucking target."
She blinks at me, her lips swollen, her hair a disaster, her body marked all over. "It's not your fault people are assholes," she finally says.
"It is, though," I insist. "I brought this circus into your life. You asked me to fix it, and I didn't. That's on me, not you." Guilt sits heavy on my chest. "I'm going to fix it, Serena. I swear to God, I won't let anything like that happen again. I don't care if I have to buy out every gossip rag in the country or personally take out the whole internet. You're not going through that again."
She nods, but her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze flickering away from mine. "Your fans hate me."
I tilt her chin up, forcing her to see me. "If the fans hate you, then they aren't my fucking fans, baby. But that's not even how it is. They're just loud because this is brand new to them. I'm not the guy who gets involved with anyone. I'm always the first one to go on record and say that the photographs are bullshit and that I'm not dating whoever the press is trying to link me to this time. But I didn't say that this time, and then they saw those pictures of us making out." I blow out a breath. "Hell, my agent nearly had a fucking stroke when I said I didn't want to go public and deny the rumors about the party this time, but I'll do it for. I'll go on record and tell them that you spilled wine on me, and I got so hard, I couldn't think straight.I'll make sure they know that you were innocent and this whole thing is squarely on my shoulders."
"Would you really?" she asks, her expression curious, like she isn't quite sure if she can believe me or not.
"I should have done it the first time you asked," I admit. "But I thought if I let it ride, I could…" I hesitate, searching for words. "I knew if I made a statement about what really happened, you could walk away, free and clear, and I'd never see you again. But so long as you needed me for something, you had to come back."
There. I said it. The dumbest, weakest part of me, is exposed for her to see.
She laughs. "Jesus, Austin. You turned us into a meme because you wanted a date."
"I told you I was a fucking idiot," I say, grinning despite myself. "I'm not good at this, baby. I'm good at football and…well, football. That's the whole list. But I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. I knew that as soon as you told me that my head was billboard-sized."
She's silent for a second, and then she just sighs, shaking her head at me. "I'm not mad at you. I get that the world is full of dicks who are going to think whatever they want to think, but I guess I always hoped I wouldn't be the punchline to their jokes."
My heart cracks open, just a little. I pull her closer, letting her bury her face in my chest. "You're nobody's punchline. Not ever. If I have to go on TV and threateneveryone to get it through their thick skulls that they need to back the fuck off, that's what I'll do."
She snorts, the sound muffled against my body. "That's a little much," she mutters, but she doesn't pull away.
"I just want you happy," I say, meaning it.
She pulls back, fixing me with a look so vulnerable it nearly kills me. "I spent my whole life just trying not to be a prop in my parents' war. By the time they divorced, my brother was almost an adult. I was just a kid, stuck in the middle by myself. I finally got free, and now I'm the thing the whole city wants to drag through the mud just because you looked at me." She shrugs, her eyes wet with tears. "I just want peace, Austin. I just want to exist."
I cup her cheek, tracing my thumb over her bottom lip. "You'll have it. I promise. I'm not letting anything touch you again, not unless you want it to." I lean in, pressing a kiss to her eyelid, then her jaw, then the hollow of her throat.
"Can I…can I tell you something?"
"You can tell me anything."
"I'm not good at this," she whispers. "I've never let anyone else get this close."
"Because of your parents."
It's not really a question, but she nods anyway. "I feel like I'm destined to follow in their footsteps and fuck up every good thing that happens, so I just…never let it happen. I swore off love and marriage and kids a long time ago. Why risk fucking someone else up that way?" She chokes on a sob, clinging to me. "I don't want to break anyone. I don't want to spend my life hating and hurting the people I was supposed to love."
"Baby." I hold her tight, kissing all over her face. "You aren't going to break me. I won't let that happen."
"Don't fall in love with me," she cries. "Don't let me hurt you."
Christ, she's killing me.
"You let me worry about me, princess. I'm a big boy." I brush my lips across hers. "You aren't going to hurt me. Just…trust me, okay?"
She shudders, her breath catching, her hands crawling up my back as I kiss her like I have all the time in the world to memorize her. I feel her body melt beneath me, the tension bleeding out as she lets herself believe—just a little—that I mean what I say.
When I finally pull back, she's looking up at me with a dangerous mix of defiance, vulnerability, and longing. She's so fucking beautiful it hurts.
"How are you possibly hard again?" she asks after a moment, her voice dry.
I grin, not even a little ashamed. "Easy. You're naked."
She groans, her face in her hands, but then she's laughing, a wild laugh that has my dick begging for another taste of her.
