“Grabbed an Uber.”
I rub my palm over his forearm, my heart pinching from the sadness on his face. “Why don’t we go in? It can’t be comfortable sitting on the floor.”
He stands in response. I unlock the door and toss my heels off to the side before locking up behind me.
Quietly, we make it down the hall and into the privacy of my bedroom. When I close the door with the heel of my foot, I sense how off the energy is between us. It’s frail and distressing.Brittle. Like this connection between us will reduce to nothing if I take an unsteady step or say the wrong thing.
I’m torn between not knowing what to say and wanting to hold him in my arms while offering him every word of comfort I have in my arsenal. The only problem is…I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what will help or what will break him more, so I choose walking on eggshells, thinking it might be what he needs most even though it makes my calves cramp.
I head over to my dresser, walking around him without brushing against him. I’m careful with my distance, and it’s so unlike what I’m used to. I’ve grown accustomed to his affection when he’s near. To him giving me every ounce of his attention. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk. That he doesn’t have much to say and is still processing one of the biggest changes a person can experience. So, for now, I’ll give him his space. At least until I figure out how to be there for him.
It could always be worse,I remind myself.He could have gone somewhere else. Instead, he showed up at my apartment which speaks louder than any word he’s spoken since leaving the fundraiser.
I tug open a drawer and take out a pair of cotton shorts along with its matching shirt. I don’t miss the sardonic joke in the smiley graphic printed on the front. Long gone are grins and laughs and happiness.
A chill runs down my spine, and when my skin pebbles with the familiar pimples of goosebumps, I rub my hands over my arms to chase them away. My palms aren’t what makes them scatter. It’s the warm breath that slips down over my shoulder when pressure presses into the center of my back where the zipper of my gown is located.
I take in Colson’s presence behind me as he gently drags the zipper down to the small of my back. When his finger slips under one of the straps, and he drags it off my shoulder, my stomachbursts with a familiar sensation of desire. When he does the same thing to the other, I close my eyes and hold onto my clothes a little tighter.
Is it crazy that with all the emotion trying to steal us away from each other that I might possibly want this man more than ever? When I pressed my lips to his the first time in Lucy’s, I had no idea it would lead to this moment, but now that I’m here there’s nowhere else I want to be.
“Colson,” I breathe out softly.
He presses a tight circle of kisses on my left shoulder then trails the tip of his tongue to the side of my neck where he nips my skin with his teeth. He gives me a soothing, “Shhh,” then peppers three kisses to my earlobe. My stomach tightens. My thighs clench for what’s to come. He’ll nevernotbe able to do this to me, to drive me completely mad and make me crave him so desperately.
But as much as I want him to take over and give me all of him, I need to knowhe’sokay with this. “Are you sure this is what we should be doing right now?” I ask carefully.
His voice is a low grumble. “There’s nothing else I want.”
His hand slips down inside my dress and glides down my side, his palm curving against my ribs and waist. My dress pools at my feet and leaves me standing in nothing but the thong I slipped on so underwear lines wouldn’t be visible through the material.
He continues kissing me.
My shoulders.
My neck.
My back.
“Maybe we should talk,” I suggest as fireworks light my skin wherever he touches.
“No talking,” is his curt reply.
“It’s been a hard day.” I cringe when it comes out, because I don’t need to remind him. His palm smooths over my ass before he pulls the string at my hip and lets it snap back at my skin. It leaves a sting that adds to the pressure between my legs, and as much as I want to say it doesn’t make me hotter—because,hello, he just found out his mom died—I can’t. Every way Colson touches me makes me fall for him a little more, and while I want to get to the bottom of how he’s feeling after being told Janie overdosed and having to say goodbye to her, I want more of this. More of him. More of us.
“You’re sure?” I ask again because I realize how messed up this is.
His voice hardens, and it reminds me of when his car broke down and he wanted nothing to do with the help I offered. “Goddamnit, Violet. All I want isyou. I’m not asking for a conversation. I don’t need you to try and decipher how I’m feeling right now.” He pauses as if he’s reeling in his emotions. “I don’t need a fucking therapist. I need my girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and twist around. Standing toe-to-toe with him, I notice the slight flush in his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be here for you right now. I wish you’d tell me what you need. You don’t have to carry it alone.”
His bottom lip trembles. He silences the wavering by clamping his teeth down on it. “I just told you what I need.” His eyes flick between mine, and it takes everything in me not to rip my heart out of my chest and hand it over to replace his broken one. To wipe that look of heartbreak off his face and fill the void in his eyes.
“You already have me,” I whisper. “You always will.”
He grips the back of my neck and drags my mouth to his. His kiss is rough and desperate and so different from what he’s given me in the past. He kisses me like it’s the only thing he has tocling to, like it’s his oxygen. I let him take it. I let him breathe in every ounce of air I can give, and when he lowers to suck on my breasts, swirling his tongue around my hardened nipples over and over again, I hold his head there and appreciate the way he makes my body come to life.
“I need more of you,” I murmur, loving the way he clamps his teeth down on me before my nipple pops out of his mouth.
