“Then tell her whatever you want,” I growled with rising irritation.
His sigh was long and quiet. Not angry, just disappointed. That made it worse.
“Why won’t you justsay it, Dare?”
Because if I said it out loud, I’d have to mean it. I’d have to own it. I’d have to make itreal.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. I wanted to, but I felt like a live wire wrapped in caution tape. Touch me too long, and everything burned.
The radio murmured some song I didn’t know the name of, but it mirrored my feelings—sad and defeated.
“I don’t want to go home with you if I have to pretend,” I said, barely audible.
He turned to me fully, voice strong. “Then don’t pretend.”
Simple. Clear. But nothing about this was simple. Because I was already pretending. Pretending I didn’t care. Pretending I didn’t wake up every day with the taste of his kiss still on my tongue. Pretending I wasn’t terrified of the second someonesawus and put a name to it.
I kept my eyes on the windshield and let the fog roll in. I didn’t say another word. Despite Tru sitting beside me, he might as well have been a million miles away. The divide between us had grown so wide I couldn’t even reach for him.
That night, as Tru lay in my arms, I apologized to him for my cowardice the best way I knew how—with my body, not words. I had to push myself over this invisible line… it was the only way to overcome my fear, the only way I wasn’t going to lose Tru.
He shifted closer, his forehead brushing my jaw, checking to make sure I was really there. Really staying. His fingers curled in the fabric of my shirt, gentle but certain, and something inside me split open at the trust in that one small touch.
“I’m trying,” I whispered into his hair. It wasn’t enough, but it was the truest thing I had.
“I know,” he said, breath warm against my collarbone. He didn’t say it with disappointment or accusation, just quiet belief. The kind that burned.
I rolled him beneath me slowly, giving him all the time in the world to stop me if he wanted. He didn’t. His hands came up to my waist, steadying me, grounding me. Every inch I lowered felt like choosing him again and again, rewriting the part of me that had flinched and run for years.
“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” I breathed.
His thumb stroked my side. “Then don’t be. Not with me.”
Damn, he made it sound so possible.
I kissed him, deeper than I ever had, letting every fear and apology and promise bleed into the space between us. Trukissed me back like he’d been waiting for this version of me, the one who wasn’t hiding or pulling away.
When we finally stilled, he cupped my jaw and held my gaze, memorizing it.
“You won’t lose me,” Tru said softly. “Not for this. Not for anything.”
His certainty scared the hell out of me and saved me in the same breath.
So I sank into him—into us—and let the last of my fear melt in the heat of everything we were finally brave enough to touch.
Tru’s breath hitched when I shifted my weight, bracing one hand beside his head. His eyes flicked to my mouth, then down my body, then back up again—slow, deliberate, cataloging every inch of me he finally had permission to touch.
Heat rolled through me.
Tru pulled me down again before I could say anything, his mouth finding mine with a need that went straight through me. His legs wrapped around my hips, drawing me closer, urging me on with every inch of his body.
“Dare,” he whispered against my lips, and something in me snapped. Not in a breaking way—in a surrendering way. The part of me that kept hesitating finally realized there was no safer place in the world than right here, with him.
I dragged my knuckles down the line of his ribs, loving the way he arched into it, the way his breath stuttered. His hands slid up my back, under my shirt, fingers splayed wide needing to touch all of me at once. God, the way he touched—it undid me. Soft and sure and wanting.
I kissed down his throat, feeling his pulse jump beneath mymouth. His fingers threaded through my hair, tugging just enough to drag a sound out of me that would’ve humiliated me if it weren’t for the way he reacted—hips lifting, breath catching, heart racing against my chest.
Tru tugged at my shirt, pulling it over my head with a laugh.
