This. Fucking. Girl.
“Are you mad?” Her voice is barely above a whisper as her brown eyes search mine for reassurance. She has no idea that I’m so gone for her, no idea what she just did for me.
For all of us.
“No, sweetheart. I’m not mad. I’m frustrated because you keep doing things that make me want to kiss you senseless, things that make me ache to have you closer, to make you understand how much you mean to me. But you’re not ready for that yet, and I respect that. I do. But, dammit, Bookworm, it’s tearing me apart. Every second I’m near you, my self-control slips away more, and I don’t want to ruin this—ruin us—so I need you to stop before I can’t hold back anymore and I have you pressed against that wall, kissing you the way I’ve been dying to for months.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes widen.
Fuck.
She all but turns to stone, apart from her eyes that dart back and forth, trying to read me like one of those books of hers.
I pushed her too far.
Her chest rises and falls. Her lip quivers, and her eyes shine as she looks down at her hands.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Erin,” I whisper.
I wait, my breath caught in my lungs. The space between us is charged with a tension I’ve never experienced before.
She lets out a breath, and then she’s moving.
My entire body goes still.
Is she going to kiss me?
My pulse races in anticipation as her body leans in, unable to deny this pull anymore.
Maybe she doesn’t want to.
And then she turns her head, her lips pressing into my cheek. It’s a light, lingering kiss that has my dick standing to attention.
She pulls away, her eyes locking with mine.
“I don’t want to tear you apart, Chase,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “I’m trying. I really am. I’m… I’m here. I hope you see that.”
I see you, baby. I see you.
I take her hand and press a kiss to the inside of her palm, letting my lips linger the same way hers did. She’s never kissed me on the cheek before. I know what it must have taken for her to do that. I love that she did, but I wish, for just a second, she could let go of whatever’s holding her back and let me in fully.
She seems to sense my frustration, and her hand lands on my cheek. I lift my head and find her brown eyes searching mine, as if to tell me that it won’t be like this forever.
And I believe her.
“I want to be ready for you—for us—I just... I need a little more time. It’s not you. Please don’t be angry.” Her voice waivers, almost dissolved by the air around us.
“I’m not angry, baby.”
Her words settle the storm inside of me.
“I like it when you tell me you want me. That you need me. I like knowing that it’s not one-sided.”
