“Jesus Christ, Ruthie. Please don’t make me regret this, but I need your help.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Delaney
“Harrison?” I whisper his name just in case he’s fallen asleep already. He doesn’t answer. “We need to stop this insane plan.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Oh, good, he is awake. I scoot closer to him.
“We need to stop this celibacy pact thing. We don’t need it anymore.”
“You sure?” he asks. “I never want you to doubt that while the physical between us is spectacular, it’s all of you—your brain, your heart, and your body—that I’m in love with.”
I gasp. After a few seconds, I can’t stand not knowing. “W-was that a slip of the tongue?”
Harrison scoots nearer to me and repositions himself onto his side. His hand touches my cheek, and he brushes his fingers across my skin, like a caress.
“What part? The part where I said I love you?”
“Mm-hmm.” It’s all I can squeak out. My heart gallops along, beating a mile a minute, waiting for his words.
“No, Bets. It’s exactly what I meant. I love you. I’m pretty sure I started falling in love with you when I witnessed your tenacity as you tried to choke down that cheap whiskey. God, you were cute.”
I smile even though the room is dark except for the sliver of moonlight peeking through the window.
It has been over five years since anyone told me they loved me.
He doesn’t know it yet, but I love him, too.
“Thank you for sharing everything you did about your father, and… and for coming with me to meet my mom. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you about her.”
He leans down, and his lips press against my forehead, then his arm crosses over me and rests on my low back. My T-shirt has ridden up, and his hand lies over my exposed skin. Even that innocent touch has me burning with desire for him.
“It’s me who should thank you. I’ve never been able to open up to someone about my dad like I did with you. Yeah, it’s painful, but sharing it with you took a piece of that pain and dulled it.”
I want to push more of that pain away every day. This man deserves to be free and to see how extraordinary he is.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
When our lips meet, my heart longs to tell him I love him, too. I don’t get a chance to yet because our mouths are busy, and the thought of breaking this kiss is inconceivable.
The desperate desire between us somehow enables us to shed what little clothing we had on, with minimal interruption to our kiss. Our hands travel over each other’s bodies, as we give in to the craving to touch each other in places we’ve denied ourselves for far too long. Harrison pulls back from the kiss and stretches toward his nightstand, where the condoms are.
We’ve talked about this; we’ve both tested negative since our last sexual encounter, and I’m on the pill. Still, we continued to use condoms until the pact.
“No,” I whisper. He immediately stops.
“I’m sorry. It was presumptuous of me?—”
“I mean no condom this time.”
He moves over me once more. Now he’s close enough that I can see his face. His eyes search mine.
“Are you sure, Bets?”
“I’m positive. Now, please, I need you, Harrison. With nothing between us.”
