There’s a long pause, and I’m just about to demand she look at me, when she lifts her eyes without my prompting and admits, “I do. I’m just scared.”
The band around my chest unfurls, and I take a deep breath. “It’s okay if you don’t love me.” The words hurt more than I anticipated, like watching someone stub their toe or slam their finger in a door. The dread is quick and gut wrenching, but short-lived.
I can come to terms with her not loving me. Maybe she will only love Oswald. Another spike of pain pierces my chest, but it’s still manageable.
“Memphis,” she murmurs softly. “That’s not the problem. I do love you. I love both of you.” She tosses the stuff she was holding onto the bed and regrips the handholds of her crutches, angling to face me.
In three strides, I’m so deep in her space, she’s forced to release the crutches and grip my shirt as if she thought I was actually going to bowl her over. When I look down at her, I no longer care why she seemed sad when she admitted to loving me. All I care about is hearing her say it again.
“Tell me.” My voice is gruff, too demanding, and borderline threatening, but I don’t take it back.
“I love you,” she answers as if compelled by the same intensity that drives me, but it’s not just in her words, it’s in her hazel eyes. There’s a confidence there that Waylynn doesn’t often show, and something unexpected happens—Iget fucking scared.
It’s like I have the responsibility to make sure she keeps loving me, because now that I have the confirmation of her feelings, there’s no way I will risk losing it.
My hand trembles as I reach up and tip her head back even more with my palm on the nape of her neck, and then I kiss her slowly, fighting the urge to devour every inch of her like my mind is telling me I need to.
Her fingers trace up my sides, burrow under my shirt, and lay claim to my skin. Christ, it feels fucking good, but it’s also making me painfully aware of the few inches separating our bodies. I would like to pin her to the bed and sink inside her. Knowing I would be her first is almost too damn tempting, but I need more time to truly make sure I own every inch of her, and we don’t have that now.
Waylynn shuffles forward, and my dick rubs against her soft belly. I groan into her mouth, gripping her tighter, and she makes a soft sound in response that resonates at the base of my spine.
I know I need to slow this down, or I will have her naked in minutes, and that’s not fair to anyone. I pull back from her mouth, panting like I’m already fucking her. Her lips are red and swollen from my kisses and nips, and I watch her tongue slip out and make a lazy sweep, as if she can’t get enough of me either. My cock aches as I remember what her mouth felt like wrapped around me, swallowing me.
I place my forehead on hers and close my eyes. “I’ll let you get ready, sorry. I just needed…you,” I admit as the fear that caught me off guard settles into more of an awareness, a reminder not to take it for granted.
“It’s okay,” she says softly, still clinging to me.
“I’m going to get your crutches,” I tell her, not moving an inch.
“Okay.” We stay locked together for several more seconds that I wish could last longer, but eventually, I release her so she can get in the shower.
I watch her hobble away and trail behind her, placing her panties she left on the bed on the counter.
“Thanks.”
“Need any help?” I offer.
She shakes her head before saying, “No,” with a flush. We both know she wouldn’t be getting clean if I stayed to help her.
I back out of the room, promising, “I’ll leave the door cracked.”
I hear the water turn on soon after I leave. My mind is already filled with thoughts of her, but knowing she’s on the other side of that door, naked and slick, makes it damn near impossible to leave the bedroom.
The only thing that stops me from going right back in there is the clock. We need to leave soon if we want to make it to kick off. “Fuck,” I grumble and push out of her room, leaving that door mostly open too.
Bates
“That was quicker than I expected,”I say without really taking stock of Memphis’ face. His eyes are dark and shadowed, but he doesn’t look mad.
His movements are stiff as he jerks open the fridge and grumbles, “Don’t remind me.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened, or should I guess?”
He closes the fridge and backs away without having taken anything out. “I told her I loved her last night, right before Oz fucking interrupted us, and she was being weird after.”
“So naturally, you went up there to bully her.” I grin.
“I did not bully her, but I would have,” he retorts, making the second part of the statement much softer. He scrubs both of his hands over his face and lets out a frustrated huff.
