“No,” I disagree. “In the past, I’ve brought out my own worst in trying to resist you. Today, though? When I left that behind? I became better.” I tuck a strand of butterscotch-blonde behind her ear, allowing my fingers to linger over the delicate skin behind it.
She shivers, and a zing of satisfaction runs through me. Praise, in another form.
“What are you getting at?” she asks, pretending like her breathing hasn’t gone shallow.
“Pleasecan I leave?” Wolfe asks. “I swear, I’ve been punished enough.”
Poem’snois drowned out by my emphaticyes.
Wolfe wastes no time. He’s out the door and slamming the one across the hall within fifteen seconds.
“I wasn’t done with him,” Poem grumbles.
“You were,” I disagree. “Because I want to say things to you now that are only for you. I share a lot with Wolfe, but not this. Not when it matters.”
Confusion muddles her pretty gray eyes.
I sigh, reach out my arms, and pull her into my chest, pressing her head against my racing heart. I kiss her hair, then rest my chin on it.
She hugs me back, zero hesitation, tucking herself into me with a quickness that has my stomach flurrying.
I permit myself the comfort of sliding my hand down her hair, letting the sweet locks glide through my fingers as I breathe in Poem’s gentle, lilac scent. Always the same. Steady and reliable. I could probably learn something from her in that department if I were willing to rid myself of any of my treasured scents. Alas. Surely the only steady scent I need is Poem’s hair beneath my nose, blessing me with every breath I take.
I take many breaths now, coming down from the big emotions of my afternoon to find the softer side of them.
When she starts to get antsy, I speak. “I love you,” I declare, brushing through her hair. “I’m in love with you.”
She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. It’s my turn to lead this conversation, and I want it to happen with her body against mine, my hand in her hair, and her ear to my heart. I trust that if she truly wants me to let her go, she’ll let me know with her words or with her elbow jammed in my unprotected organs.
She settles, huffing.
I smile.
My Poem. My kit. So contrary, even when she’s being sweet. So angry, even when she’s teaching me how to let go of the anger I hold for myself. So beautiful and vicious, piercing me with her nails as she forces me to stop hurting myself.
Don’t hurt yourself,she seemed to say.Let me do it for you.
And then, the pain she gave me led to healing.
She’s so freaking magical. A witch. A princess. An angel.
“I love you,” I say again, kissing her hair. “And you make me a better person, and I think that with you, I could become the man I want to be.”
“I’m not responsible for your character growth,” she grunts.
“No,” I agree. “But the way that you believe in me even after being at my throat for so long is a gift that I find precious. I treasure it. I treasureyou, though it hasn’t always seemed like it. And now, I wonder if I should stop waiting for the day when I feel I deserve you. You know who you are. You know what you want. You know how you feel about me.” Queasy with what I’m about to say, I take a breath to calm myself. Then, I gather my resolve to declare, “I’m going to do what you asked. I’m going to stop making the choice for you. I’m going to stop holding back when I want to move forward. I’m going to let you decide if you want me or if you don’t. If we’re together or if we’re not. If we kiss. If the goodness that you see within my character aligns with what you want for your life. I’m going to lay myself at your feet every day, letting you pick what parts of me you wish to nurture, or play with, or hold close, or push away.”
I release her to drop at her feet, my hands sliding to her calves as my cheek rests against the dip of her hip. I gaze up at her, reverent. “I’m yours, Poem, and I have been for a while. From now on, I’m going to let you see that, and I’m going to letyoudecide how much of me you wish to take.”
Stormy gray glares down at me, irritation marred only slightly by a lingering spark of curiosity. “What does any of that mean?” she asks. “Practically speaking, what are you saying to me?”
I answer immediately. “I’m saying that when I want to kiss you, I’m going to kiss you, and it will be your choice to slap me or kiss me back. When I want a hug, I’ll fold my arms around you and hope that you don’t push me away. When I want to tell you how beautiful you are, I’ll speak it, giving you the opportunity to laugh in my face or not. I’m going to act on my thoughts unless you tell me to act otherwise. I’m going to show you my feelings untilyoudecide if I’m worthy or not, or if I ever could be.”
She hums thoughtfully. “This sounds like you’re inviting me to not only decide your fate, but to torment you while I do it.”
I shrug. “Is that not what was already happening? All I’m doing is taking away the illusion that I ever had any power at all.”
Her head tilts, soft strands of blonde falling above me like golden sun rays. “And this will make you feel better?” she asks. “This will help?”
