Page 79 of Falling For My Ex's Older Brother

She doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Say something," I say.

She exhales.

"You told your brother before you told me."

"Yes."

"You've had months," she says. Her voice is steady but there's something underneath it.

"Months, Logan. And I've been here the entire time, wondering. Trying to read what I mean to you by what you do because what you say has never been enough to go on." She looks at me directly.

"Do you know what that feelslike? Being with someone and not knowing if you're real to them? Not knowing if you're a secret or a choice?"

"I know."

"It felt like Caleb," she says.

"Not the same — you're not him and this isn't that. But the shape of it. Being kept somewhere undefined. Being the thing nobody talks about." Her voice doesn't break. It stays level and that levelness is more devastating than any raised voice would be.

"I told myself you showed up in ways that mattered. And you did. But Logan — I needed the words too. I needed to know I wasn't just something you were managing."

I step toward her.

"You're not."

"I know that now." She looks up at me.

"But I needed to say it."

"I know." I stop in front of her. Close.

"I hear you. Every word of it. You were never something I was managing. You were never a secret I was keeping because I could. I was keeping you because I was afraid." I look at her — at this woman who has taken every wall I've built and found the door in it without ever trying to force it.

"I'm not afraid anymore."

Her eyes are bright. She presses her lips together for a moment.

"I love you," I say again. Quieter this time. Just for her.

"I love who you are in every room I've ever watchedyou walk into. I love that you don't let me get away with anything. I love that you show up at full capacity every single day and you expect the same from me and you're right to expect it." I reach up. My hand finds her face — my thumb at her cheekbone, her jaw warm in my palm.

"You're not in a box. You're not a chapter. You're what I want. All of it. Every room. No more margins."

She looks at me for a long moment.

Then she says: "I love you too. I've loved you for months and it terrified me."

"I know," I say. "Me too."

She lets out a breath that sounds like something releasing. Her hand comes up and covers mine where it rests against her face.

Before she can say anything else, I grab her waist, pulling her close to me in one swift motion. She doesn’t resist, her body soft and pliant as I caress her flesh. My hand moves to her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine as I lower my head, my lips claiming hers in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.

She melts against me, her hands tangling in my shirt as her body presses to mine. I kiss her harder, deeper, my hand moving to the back of her neck to hold her in place. She responds with the same intensity, her nails scraping lightly against my chest as she matches my pace, our mouths moving together in a rhythm that’s anything but gentle.

I guide her backward, our lips never breaking, until her legs hit the edge of the sofa. She pulls at my shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as I slide the sides ofher sweatshirt down her shoulders, exposing the soft curve of her skin. My hands find her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, relishing the way her body responds to my touch.