“Because,” he says softly, “I want you.”
I shake my head. “It’s not just want, Jaxon. You look at me like, like I matter. Like you care about me. And that terrifies me.”
His voice drops, velvet and raw:
“You do matter.”
My breath shatters.
“To you?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
I blink hard, fighting tears.
“I don’t know how to handle someone choosing me.”
His hand lifts to my face, slow, gentle, hesitant, like he’s afraid I’ll step back.
I don’t.
His thumb brushes my cheek.
“Then let me choose you slowly,” he murmurs. “One day at a time.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
He wipes it away with his thumb.
“I don’t want perfect,” he whispers. “I just want you.”
I make a sound I didn’t know I was capable of, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
“I want you too,” I breathe.
His chest rises sharply.
He steps closer.
“Then let me have you.”
My knees weaken.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He leans in, lips brushing my cheek.
“I’ll go slow.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth.
“I’ll go at your pace.”
He kisses my jaw.
“I’ll stay if you stay.”
He lifts my chin.
