Page 145 of Breakaway Hearts

“No, please, wait.” He follows as I grab my shoes, careful not to block the door, which I both love and hate. “We can talk⁠—”

“You’ve made your feelings really clear, and I’d rather not dissect why you’re no longer into me, I’d just like to go home.”

“I want you so bad it’s driving me insane, Madison, and it took more willpower than I have to stop us right there, but⁠—”

“Then why the fuck did you? Emotionless hate sex was cool, but God forbid you touch damaged goods?”

“You’re not damaged goods, and I’ve never hated you,” he says fiercely. “I just don’t know how…”

“To fuck me? Because you managed pretty well until I told you my most shameful secret, and all of a sudden…”

“Madison!” He raises his voice for the first time since I’ve known him, but there’s no anger behind it, more like he’s trying to snap me out of a spiral as he gently places his hand on my cheek so I look at him.

“I love you,” he says. “So fucking much. And I want you, in every way, more than anything. What happened to you changes none of that, but I don’t know how to be what you need, or how to treat you that isn’t…”

As he struggles to find his words, I’m still reeling from him saying he loves me, with so much certainty, without hesitation, that maybe he doesn’t realize he said it.

“Treat me like you always have,” I say quietly.

He looks at me like I’m being naïve, and I hate it.

“How can I do that when most of the things I thought you liked are trauma responses? When I know you try to not see my face so you don’t have to see his? The last thing I want to do is hurt you or make it worse.”

It’s hard to argue when that is exactly what I’m doing.

“You won’t,” I say with a sigh. “I know you just found out about it, but it happened to me years ago, before I even met you. I’ve already done the self-destructive, have your way with me because it’s not rape if I let it happen⁠—”

“The fuck it isn’t.”

“I know,” I assure him, but I appreciate how pissed off the idea makes him. “I know I’m still protecting myself with you, but it’s nothing like it was before.”

“I don’t know what you need from me, Maddie. I don’t know how to be around you, how to do…that without fucking something up.”

“You make it really hard to stay mad at you when you’re trying so hard to be perfect, but I just…right now, all I need is you. What’s hurting me most is feeling like you don’t want me. Like you see me as this broken, damaged thing you want to protect and take care of but have no desire for. It makes me feel as worthless and expendable as I did then.”

He looks horrified.

“That was never my⁠—”

“I know. But that’s how it felt when you pushed me away.”

“I’m so sorry, Mads, I thought I was…giving you space or being respectful.”

“And I appreciate that. You wanting to take care of me and make sure I’m good. But I need you to believe me when I say I am.”

“I can do that,” he agrees. “If you promise to tell me when you’re not.”

That isn’t something I’m good at. I’ve become very efficient at bottling it all up and telling myself I’m fine. The more distance, the less feelings, the better. But, “Okay,” I tell him.

He kisses me torturously slow, but I step away until my back is against the door and Owen’s body is pressed to mine. He holds my face like it’s made of porcelain, but his lips bruise mine like he’s trying to consume me.

“Fuck, Maddie, you have no idea how much I want you.”

The bulge straining against his pants gives me an idea, but he says it like it comes from deep in his chest, like he doesn’t just mean my body.

I’m not sure if I jump or he lifts me, but he carries me up the stairs without breaking the kiss, until I decide it’s safer for me to leave a trail of kisses down his neck than to impede his vision.

When he puts me down, he kisses my lips, hard, then turns me so his erection is pressed into my lower back, and his mouth finds that sweet spot where my neck meets my clavicle.