“But then I look at you, I look into your eyes and I see the desperation in them for me to understand. I see the pleadingand…it makes me believe you, that there was no ill intent to hurt me, that you’re speaking the truth with everything inside of you.”
“I am,” I say, my voice shaking, because she’s right. I desperately want her to understand.
She nods and then turns so she’s looking straight ahead rather than at me. “I think I just need some time,” she says softly, her words breaking me even though I understand them.
“I get it,” I say, wanting to give her space despite my heart begging me to plead with her, to explain more. “I, uh, I can leave, but promise me you’ll eat dinner. Everything is in the basket for you. I got some of that peach jam you’ve talked about and those crackers that look like little slices of bread.” I stand and she does as well. I head toward the bar, unsure what to do. “Do you want me to set it out for you?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay.” I scratch the back of my neck. “If you need anything, let me know.” Then I give her what feels like the saddest smile of all time and I head toward the back door.
“Theo?” she calls out.
I pause and look over my shoulder. When I look into her eyes, I feel shattered. I can’t believe I actually fucked this up. I should have been honest and straightforward from the beginning. Then again, would she have actually given me the time of day if I was?
“Yes?”
Her fingers itch at her side, her body language indecisive as she moves toward me, her eyes never straying from mine.
And as she grows closer, my heart pounds faster until it stops beating altogether when her hand closes around my neck, pulls me down toward her, and her lips press against mine.
I gasp before sliding my arms around her waist and pulling her in close, letting her take control, and letting her know this is all I want.
Her.
In my arms.
Her lips scorch me with heat, lighting me up and igniting me from deep within.
Her hands dive into my hair, exploring.
Her body melts into mine, making me feel like a whole man again.
“Fuck,” I say as she pulls away but keeps her head close to mine, her fingers playing with the hairs on the back of my neck.
“I…I don’t want you to go. I know I should tell you to leave, that I should be insulted and that I should hate you for using me to try to prove a point to your father, but…that’s not how I feel.”
“How do you feel?” I ask as my happiness rides on her answer.
“I feel like if you walk out of that door, I’m going to regret it because I’m…I’m developing feelings for you and even though I’m mad, I don’t want you to leave. I want you here, with me, holding me.”
I press my forehead against hers. “I can do that, love. You can be mad at me and I can still hold you, take care of you. Anything you want. Just give me a chance to make this up to you.”
She doesn’t say anything. Instead, her lips find mine again and her hands move down my back to the hem of my shirt. Her fingers slide under the fabric and up against my skin, her warm touch soothing my battered soul in an instant.
When my hands fall to the hem of her shirt, she takes a step back and I regret the decision only for a second before she lifts her arms above her head, asking me to take her shirt off.
Jesus. This doesn’t feel real, but I’ll take it. I’ll prove to her that I meant everything I said.
I grip the hem of her shirt and I pull it over her head, my eyes trained on her purple lace bra that’s cupping her breasts, propping them up just slightly. She moves in close to me againand pulls my shirt over my head before discarding it on the floor. Then her hands are all over me, slowly dragging across my chest, her fingernails leaving a trail behind them. Her mouth is slow, languid, teasing as she gently opens up, but not enough for me to kiss her the way I want.
But I let her continue to take the lead on this, because this is her moment. It’s about her, not about me.
Her hands drag down my stomach to the zipper of my shorts and she undoes them before lightly dragging her finger over the elastic of my boxer briefs. My cock jumps at the thought of her touching me, handling me.
“Renley,” I groan as she swipes again.
Her hands release me and I’m about to protest until she reaches behind her and undoes her bra, only to push down her shorts and her underwear as well, leaving her completely bare.
