“Okay,” I breathe. “It was… an incredible one night. I’ll always remember it.”
He tilts his head, one brow up, studying me like he’s weighing the words in my mouth. Then: “It wasn’t just one night.”
I frown. “Didn’t you say that?”
He pulls his brows closer, blinking hard. “When did I ever say that?”
“You literally did.” I jab his chest, smirking. “You said, ‘Give me one night.’”
“No. I said,'Give me one night to make you mine.'"
I bite back my smile. "Uh-huh, so semantics."
“You should know better, writer. Words matter.”
I give him a look. “You think I was analyzing syntax while your fingers were knuckle-deep in me?”
His mouth twitches. "Is this the moment you're going to tell me this was a fling, too?"
I weigh whether I should say something real or biting, and when I don't say anything, he takes a step closer and says, "That's what I thought."
I'm tempted to pinch him, but don't. I sigh instead. "You know, it could never be a fling with you, which just makes it more terrifying.”
His gaze goes serious. "It's the most terrifying thing I've ever felt."
I search in his face. "That sounds intense. I always thought you didn't give a damn."
"You think I don't give a damn?" he echoes, frowning. Then he studies me a beat before he says. "I do. You're the damn I give."
I bite back my smile, but the heaviness of our reality starts sneaking in.
"Ben, I loved all of it, and it wasn't just about your skilled hands or mouth—it's you," I rush out, then sigh and slow down. "But the minute I leave you I'll realize that I've become everything I hate. And I don't know how to live with that."
The water laps quietly around us as he goes still, his face unreadable now.
"I have someone waiting at home," I say, low, because I'm ashamed. "It's not perfect, but he doesn't deserve this. No one does. We crossed a line tonight."
"I know. And I don't want to go back," he says instantly, voice firm. Then he exhales roughly through his nose, his jaw tightening. "Do you want to talk about him?"
"No." I shake my head instantly. "Definitely not."
“Good. I don't want to talk about him either,” he says, tone calm but loaded. “But you’ll have to tell him.”
"I know."
"Preferably now."
I blink, caught off guard.
When he keeps watching me, unshakable, I frown at him. "Of course not. It's not that simple. First I need to overthink why we did this. What a horrible person I am. How much I hate myself, despite loving it so much. If I'm even allowed to like it. Pretty sure I'll fall apart the second I leave you."
When I finish, he's looking at me with that unnerving silence, and I have no idea what's going on in his head.
I swallow and my voice comes out too small. "So? Are yougoing to run now that I told you the truth? Pretend you didn't hear any of that?"
Ben lets out a low snort, brushing a wet strand of hair from my cheek.
"You know what I'm thinking? That I'm staying. Even if you need to fall apart," he says, lips hovering above mine, like he's about to spill a secret straight into them. A crooked half-smile. "But if you do, I'd prefer it to happen on top of me."
