“I can’t promise I know how to do this, Juliette,” he said.
“I didn’t ask you to know.”
"What are you asking for?"
"That you stop deciding for both of us."
Nick stepped into my space, his hands coming up to frame my face. His palms were rough against my skin, warm enough to make my body forget we were supposed to be having a serious conversation. He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine.
“Stay,” he whispered, and the word came out rough enough to make my throat tighten.
The word stayed between us while his shirt rasped over his head and his belt slid free with a soft scrape. I peeled off the borrowed cotton T-shirt, damp at the spine from a day spent pretending I was fine.
“Nick,” I said softly.
His gaze came back to mine.
“Don’t do that,” I said. “Don’t make me pretend it didn’t hurt.”
He caught my hand, kissing the palm before leading me to the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he came over me, careful in a way that should have annoyed me more than it did. His arms braced on either side of my head. His chest hovered above mine. His eyes stayed on my face as if looking away might let something slip loose between us.
“Look at me,” he said, and my thighs tightened at the rough edge in his voice before the rest of me could mount a respectable defense.
Naturally, my body chose that moment to stop pretending this was a debate.
The first press of him against me pulled a breath loose and destroyed whatever remained of my negotiating position. He stayed just outside me, hips angled, body taut, giving me enough pressure to understand exactly what he was withholding.
His jaw worked once beneath his beard. The rest of him stayed still.
I had opinions about that. My nipples did too, apparently, tightening where they brushed his chest before I could salvage any dignity from the situation.
Nick’s breath caught. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Don’t do that unless you mean it.”
Excellent. At least one of us was suffering visibly.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, then came back to mine. He watched the change in my face with a focus that was almost indecent, and the worst part was that he didn’t look pleased with himself. He looked like he was losing a fight he’d chosen badly.
“Tell me you want this,” he said. “I need to hear it before I lose my goddamn mind.”
The bastard didn't move until I answered.
I slid my hand from his chest to the back of his neck. His pulse beat hard beneath my fingers. Steady enough to lie, but not well enough to fool me.
“Nick, I swear to God, if you make me ask nicely...”
His attention dropped to my mouth, and his jaw set like he hated that I’d seen it. “You’d hate that,” he said.
“Try me.”
The challenge landed. His body answered first, a hard press of his hips that made my next breath useless. His gaze started to drop.
“No,” I whispered, pulling him down until his breath brushed my collarbone. “Don’t hide from me.”
His gaze snapped back to mine.
There he was, looking like a man who could face danger without blinking but considered being understood a personal attack.
