I cup the base of her skull and sweep my thumb along her jaw.
“Freya,” I say. “What I did… I didn’t know it would hit you like this.”
She blinks, and the depth of her gaze cracks something wide open in my chest. She’s so goddamn beautiful.
“I never thought you couldn’t handle it,” I murmur. “That never oncecrossed my mind.”
Her fingers catch lightly in my shirt and, Christ, I want her to hold on. I want her to stay right here. Words barely scratch the surface of what it does to me.
“All I wanted was to make your life easier,” I murmur. “I should’ve asked. I should’ve paid better attention to what it meant to you. I was trying to fix something without understanding what was broken.”
I rest my forehead against hers. Her breath grazes my chin, and the urge to kiss her hits like a punch.
“You have nothing to prove.” A confession makes its way to the surface. “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met.”
The truth of the statement is so deep, it almost swallows me whole.
I trail my thumb along the column of her throat, feeling her swallow beneath my touch.
I fucked this up. God, I had her trust. I was building something here, and I wrecked it.
“Please don’t leave.” The words come out unintended, meant to be a silent plea in my mind.
Freya goes still. Her fingers unhook from my shirt. She lifts her head just enough that her breath warms my lips.
“Anton…” she whispers, soulful, doe eyes searching mine.
There’s confusion there.
She studies my face like she’s trying to see past the apology and the comfort I’m giving into the part I didn’t mean to show her—the part that slipped out before I could tie it down. The part that’s terrified of fucking this up.
Turns out that being just friends never protected me from the fear of losing her. How could it? She’s not just one person I love but two.
Her finger drags unconsciously along my sternum. “Whywould you think I’d leave?” she asks, voice barely above a breath.
And just like that, the moment tilts.
Not away from her pain, not fully because it’s there on her still-glossy eyelashes, but it’s like there’s some sort of mirror between us. Bearing her wound revealed mine.
Her question hangs between us like a lit fuse, but I can’t answer it.
“I’m mad at you…” She parts her lips. “But I want you.”
She’s looking at me like she wants to set fire to every version of us that came before.
So I kiss her.
My lips crash against hers, a rough, guttural sound tearing out of me as I pull her in with both hands. Her chest hits mine, soft breasts and heat. Her fingers fist in my shirt, dragging me closer, and the sound she makes against my mouth is pure devastation.
She parts her full lips for me, and I swirl my tongue around hers. It’s a kiss so goddamn raw, it shreds whatever’s left of wanting to be friends and all my self-control. I slide my hand down her spine and cup her voluptuous ass.
God, she tastes like everything I’ve been denying myself.
Everything I’ve ever wanted.
Freya answers my hungry kiss with a soft, broken noise that goes straight to my knees. Her hands slide up my chest, fisting in the fabric of my Henley.
She smells like vanilla and want, and fuck, it hits me harder than it should.
