One more time to hold her hand in mine. One more time for her soft, supple lips to meet mine.
That will be all, I tell myself. I can stop after that.
When the door upstairs clicks shut, Lena shoots off the other couch like a spring, jumping around the coffee table to me like our thoughts were aligned.
As she lands on the couch beside me, I pull her toward my body, right where she fits perfectly.
My arm around her shoulders, her head on my chest, her hand over the fox on my ribs.
She’s home.
Even though we swore it would be over last night, and then this morning, here we are, drawn to each other like magnets. Like it’s inescapable.
As she burrows closer to me, I whisper, “I have an errand to run tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?”
Her eyes meet mine, the reflection from the tree’s lights sparkling in her caramel irises. “Of course. What’s the errand?”
I run a hand over her shoulder, reminding myself to only touch her arm. Nowhere else. “I want to take pizzas to Shannon’s house. That was Julia’s Christmas wish, and Peter’s Pizza is going to make some for me to pick up.”
“My Gavin is a softie,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my jaw.
My Gavin.
I let those words nestle inside my heart.
I want to be hers. I want this cozy comfort every day. I want her presence to soothe my soul like this every night.
“Come upstairs with me,” she whispers.
Dropping my lips to the top of her head, I shut my eyes and inhale her sweet, citrusy scent. “I can’t.”
Her little whine makes me huff a laugh. “I want another night. Just one more.”
My hand betrays the Arm Rule and runs through the ends of her silky hair. “I want another night too, but you’re just going to get me addicted.”
She looks up at me, her gaze glassy. “What if I already am?”
When she licks her lips, I follow the movement of her tongue and have to stifle a groan.
I’m clearly addicted too. The intense pressure in my chest to simply becloserto her is debilitating. I don’t even know if I’m ever thinking straight at this point.
Putting a palm to her cheek, I press my forehead to hers. “Please go to bed, Lena. For my sanity. You’re too tempting to resist when you’re cuddled up beside me, all soft and sweet. It’s so hard to say no.”
“Then don’t,” she pleads, standing and tugging me to follow her.
Somehow I manage to shake my head, keeping myself rooted to the couch. “I can’t.” But even as I say the words, my attention drags down her body, to her hardened nipples pressing against the front of her shirt and the flare of her hips.
When my gaze drifts back up to hers, she bites her bottom lip. “I’ll be waiting for you.” Then she saunters to the stairs without a second glance.
My chest aches as I watch her walk away.
Can I really stay away from her? Can I let her sleep upstairs knowing how impeccable it feels to lie with my body pressed to hers?
I already know the answer. My willpower when it comes to her is as fragile as chipped glass. It’s cracking and splintering further into a spiderweb with every moment I spend in her presence.
And I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to gather up all the broken pieces after this.
28
