She blinks, confused at first, then shakes her head softly. "But I don't want to sleep. I want—" She drags a finger from my neck to the first button of my shirt and moves her hips against me. She shudders, and her breath hits mine.
A guttural sound catches in my throat. My pulse slams harder. If she comes undone like this from just a kiss, I don't dare imagine how completely she'd unravel if I ever truly took all of her.
I'm not crossing that line.
I only kissed her so she'd go to sleep.
Liar!
I murmur, "I know what you say you want, but right now, you want it because you're exhausted and overstimulated. Your brain hasn't had rest in days. You need sleep more than anything."
Her face crumples, like I physically smacked her.
I quickly add, "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't hold myself back."
She blinks a few times, then beams at me. She firmly reiterates, "You do care about me."
"Yes."
Her smile widens, then falls. Her body betrays her. She sways, blinking faster.
"Whoa." I pull her against me to steady her. I assert in her ear, "You're exhausted."
"No, I'm not," she whispers, but the word cracks in the middle.
"You are. You can barely sit upright."
"But you kissed me," she murmurs, voice barely audible, like that changes the laws of the universe. "You kissed me, so you don't… You don't get to leave."
Her logic makes my throat tighten painfully.
Panic hits her. She pushes away to lock eyes with me. "Tell me you won't leave me."
A punch of fear hits me, sharp and hollow, because she isn't asking for reassurance. She's anchoring herself to me, and I'm the last person who should let her. For one terrifying heartbeat, I don't know how to protect her without breaking myself.
"I'll sleep well but only if you don't leave," she reiterates.
I cave, "I'm not leaving you."
Her entire body softens. A shuddering exhale leaves her lungs as though my words are the only thing keeping her tethered. The trust in her eyes is so raw, it makes my rib cage ache.
She leans into me again, cheek brushing my jaw, breath skimming the corner of my mouth.
My stomach drops, heat coils low, and a groan threatens to tear from my throat if I don't move away now. I pull back hard.
Her face falls.
A stab of guilt hits me.
She admits, "I want to keep kissing you. You don't want to kiss me again?"
Oh God.
I grip the edge of the couch to anchor myself. "I know. But I can't. Not again. Not tonight."
She looks devastated, like I took something precious from her. Her hand lifts toward me again, fingers shaking, but her body sags at the effort. "Am I a bad kisser?"
I swallow hard, confessing, "No. You're the best damn kisser I've ever encountered."
