“So let’s talk about it. We have…” He glances at the house, at the warm rectangles of light in the windows. “What? Ten days? A week? Whatever it is, it’s finite. You’re not going to stay. I’m not asking you to. I won’t suddenly demand you put a picket fence around yourself. That would be…” He gives a small, self-deprecating huff. “Antithetical to who you are, and Ilikewho you are.”
My throat tightens again.
“And as for me,” he continues, “yes, I’m figuring things out. Yes, I’m still new at a lot of this. But I’m not made of spun sugar. I can make decisions about what I’m prepared to risk.” He swallows, adjusts his glasses. “I don’t want you to back off out of… pity. Or fear. If you want to, because you don’t enjoy this, that’s one thing. But if youdoenjoy it and you’re just scared…” He gives a tiny shrug. “That seems like a poor reason for both of us to miss out.”
I stare at him, speechless.Where didthisJacob come from?
He’s shaking very slightly. I can see it in his fingers. But his voicestays steady. This is the same man who told his father to do better or be alone, and the juxtaposition between that trembling hand and that steel in his spine is actually pretty devastating. “You’re very sexy when you’re reasonable,” I say faintly.
A startled laugh escapes him. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I step closer, until we’re toe-to-toe on the damp grass. “I’m not going to lie,” I murmur. “The dream version of you was very tempting this morning.”
His eyes flare. “Dream version?”
“Don’t get cocky,” I warn, poking his chest lightly. “I am still absolutely pro-freedom, pro-polyamory, and pro-leaving-when-the-wind-changes. That’s not going to change. Even if this show comes off and I have a sort-of base somewhere, it’ll still be a revolving door. I’m not built for forever.”
“I know,” he says. “You’ve been very clear. And for what it’s worth…” His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then lifts again. “I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking fornow. For you not to deprive us of that because you’re frightened of what might happen later. And honestly? I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
He really is too much.
Too smart. Too kind. Too thorough in his arguments. Too damn handsome, with that slightly rumpled button-down and his cheekbones and the way his voice goes low and rough when he cares about something.
Too damn hot.
“God, you’re dangerous,” I mutter.
“And you’re not?” he counters, the corner of his mouth lifting.
I give in, stepping right into his space, curling a hand around the back of his neck, and tug him down to me. He comes willingly, hands finding my waist like they’ve learned me already.
The first brush of his mouth is soft, questioning. When I deepen it, he groans quietly into my lips, and his fingers tighten on my hips. Heat sparks low in my belly, spilling through me, familiar and sharp and glorious.
For a few long moments there’s no talk of impending departures. Just his tongue teasing mine, his breath stuttering, my body pressing closer.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“So,” he says, voice a little wrecked. “Is that… a provisional yes to continuing to sleep with me until you leave?”
I smile, breathless. “If you keep texting me about how I taste, it might be more than provisional. With very little sleeping involved.”
His eyes darken. “Noted.”
“And we keep talking,” I add, more serious. “About everything. If at any point you feel like I’m too much, or not enough, or you really are catching feelings you don’t want, you tell me. We don’t do the thing where we pretend everything’s fine until you implode.”
He nods. “Honesty. We already agreed on that.”
“Good.” I nip at his lower lip. “Because I am definitely going to ruin your life if you let me, and I’d rather we both go into that with our eyes open.”
He huffs a laugh against my mouth. “I’m not sure you’ve noticed,” he murmurs, “but you’ve already significantly improved it.”
Something fragile and fierce twists inside me.
Freedom, I remind myself, even as I lace my fingers through his and lead him back inside.This is still a limited-time engagement. The show, the planes, the cities are still waiting.
But for now, for tonight, for this week, for however long we have… I can let myself enjoy what’s in front of me: a clever, late-blooming, neurospicy man with a bird on his wrist and fire finally sparking in his veins.
And if my heart insists on fluttering its own wings a little too…
