She stilled and looked like she might start crying, which wasn’t what he wanted. But with that reaction, he knew she was feeling things for him too—she just couldn’t get out of her own way to trust him or herself to let it in.
“I don’t want it to be just a memory, Liz, and I know you don’t either. I can see it when you look at me, when we touch,” he ventured, and moved closer to her. He put his forehead against hers, daring her to lean into him, to open herself. She took in a breath, and her hands flew to his chest, her eyes turning up to his.
“We can’t. You’re leaving.”
He leaned in and kissed her gently and tenderly, sensing he could. “I’m not leaving yet. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
She snorted and pushed at him, separating them. “Are you saying you’d stay and give up your career and big-city lifestyle? Is that all it would take? Well, bring it on, then. That sounds perfectly rational and simple, doesn’t it?” She jerked herself out of the window, further distancing herself from him, and folded her arms around her body as she stood away from him.
There it was. He watched her warring with herself, her words a defense against what he’d just said, trying desperately to push away the connection to how she refused to let herself feel. She said she didn’t want to get hurt again, but when emotion like this entered the equation, he knew it was inevitable. She was already hurting with her reminder that he was leaving.
“It doesn’t have to be safe, you’re allowed to feel what you feel,” he said.
“You don’t get to tell me what I feel,” she snapped. “Seriously, Jake, what exactly do you want out of this?”
He knew what he wanted as they stared at each other. It crystallized in the slowly fading light of day, as she stood in the loft, dust motes surrounding her, jeans stained with god knew what, her hair coming out of its hasty braid. Her proud upraised chin and stubborn stance anchored it as his chest constricted, squeezing all the air out of his lungs.
He wasn’t just falling for her. He loved her.
He’d fallen off the damned cliff. It was too late. But she needed to want it, too, or it wouldn’t work, which might tear him to pieces, the way he was feeling. A way he’d never fucking felt before right now.
Jake vaulted up and turned to her, intent on making her understand. She backed up against a wall of hay bales, her eyes darting between him and the door, so he followed, leaning into her, hands on either side of her head. She twisted her lips and looked up at him, her eyes defiant. It riled him, and even though they were talking about heavy things, the need to feel her body against his muddied his thoughts. He forced a breath through his nose and willed himself not to go hard as they argued.
“What I want is you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I’m in awe of your strength, your depth, your capacity to give. I’ve never been with a woman who makes me think so damned much, and I want more. I want it all.”
Liz was staring at him, her eyes wide. He leaned in farther, his nose just touching hers.
“I don’t have all the answers, but I want to find them. I can only do that with you,” he said, trying his best not to come off as aggressive, adrenaline and need skipping up and down his body like a Ping-Pong ball.
“What if I don’t want all that?” she spat back.
“You do,” he said softly. She was wrestling her emotions with all she had, and he needed to break through. He’d figured out how to push her, it seemed, and he wanted her to explode, to push through the fear.
If she just let him in, she’d see what he saw.
“Well . . . well—” she stuttered, then growled, rubbing her hands up and down her face. “You are so frustrating, Jake West!”
“I am?” he said, grinning at her.
“Damn it, yes. Because I do want all that . . . to trust myself. For days I’ve been thinking I should just let this happen and—”
Finally. He licked his lips, determined to stay even. “It’s fucking scary,” Jake answered. She nodded and lowered her hands to her side, vulnerability and emotion on full display. He groaned and reached for her, fitting her body to his as her arms wrapped around his waist. She buried her head into his chest.
“Let me in, Liz,” he whispered into her ear. “Let someone love you. Let it be me.”
He looked down into her face, and the tears he’d seen gathering were now tracking down her cheeks. She looked up, blinked, and then kissed him, hands coming up to hold his head steady. He held her tightly as she did, arching into the need in her, the aggressive pull of her mouth all he could handle without pressing her back against the hay and peeling her out of her clothes.
She pushed him away suddenly, angrily wiping at the tears on her face, and he braced for the defensiveness to kick in again, or for her to run. She was grappling for control, and it was eluding her.
“Fuck you and damn you to hell for making me want,” she swore, then grabbed his shirt, pulled him into her again, nose to nose as she glared at him.
“Liz,” he murmured as she shook him slightly, her hand fisted in the fabric.
“Jake,” she snapped back at him, but her body softened, the fight leaving her.
“It’s okay to want,” he murmured as she let go of his shirt and smoothed the wrinkles out with her palm. “And it’s okay to be afraid too.”
He’d said that as much for himself as for her. His heart was hammering and his mouth was dry, but he’d do anything to help her get over this last hurdle, to show her how good it could be.
