“Because I don’t know what this is!” I say, feeling extremely defensive. This isn’t easy for me. Why can’t he understand that? “I just know how I feel. I know that no matter how hard I fucking try, I can’t seem to stop. And I don’twantto.”
He shakes his head as he bites into his toast.
“Heard that a million times,” he snaps, and the tired look on his face mixed with his words is like a gut punch.
This isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation.
And the realization makes me wonder how many times he’s had this conversation, and with how many different people.
That hits me harder than it should because I don’t know what’s really going on between us—if anything.
I don’t want to be another conversation in a long line of conversations with him.
I want to be more. I don’t know how much more, just… more.
His gaze softens as he looks back at me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
His eyebrows furrow and he looks away from me, but I can see the pain he tries to hide.
“I still don’t know what I want or what I’m asking, Alex, I just know that I don’t hate when you’re around and I definitely don’t hate sex with you.”
His tired gaze meets mine with a smirk.
“We haven’t even had sex yet, Jordan. Not really.”
He gets up, grabs his plate and mug and heads for the sink. I don’t think twice about following him, even though I’m far from finished.
“No, but I want to,” I say firmly. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“Fucking hell,” he whines, tossing the dishes in the sink and running a hand through his hair.
“Alex, look at me,” I say.
It takes a moment, but he turns to face me. I’m acutely aware of how close I am to him. The light pours through the kitchen window and every other window he’s opened. I’ve never seen so much light in this place. It’s so bright, and surprisingly, I don’t hate it.
“Last night, I needed to know that what I felt all those years ago didn’t disappear. I needed to know that it was still here,” I explain, holding his gaze. “I needed to know it was still real.”
“Are you done?” he asks impatiently.
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t hurt.
He’s the one who wanted to have this conversation and now he’s mad that it’s not going how he wants?What the hell does he want me to do? Drop to my knee and propose?
“Yes,” I answer, standing tall. Alex takes one step closer to me, and something changes in his eyes.
“You wanted to know ifthis—” He points between us. “ —is real?” He holds my gaze. “If you still want me? If I still want you?”
I tense, hearing the seriousness in his voice. I can’t tell if he’s going to push me, bitch at me, or—
His hands find the back of my neck and before I can register what is happening, he crushes his mouth against mine, his hands keeping me from pulling away.
My hands find his hips and settle there, pulling him against me as he slides his tongue into my mouth.
I’ve kissed Alex a handful of times, but this feels different. It’s not hot or rushed or playful.
It’s deeper. Passionate.
