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I still can’t fully say “finally,” but I’m one step closer.
One step that feels so damn good, one that gives me courage and hope that things might fall into place in a way I never truly allowed myself to believe they could, even though, deep down, I always knew it was what I wanted.
I have the woman I’ve craved for so long in my arms, the woman I had to endure seeing with someone else for years.
And I believed she was happy. Happy with him. I’d like to say I would’ve kept my distance even if I’d known she wasn’t, but that would be a damn lie.
There were too many impulsive moments when I caught myself seconds away from doing something reckless, from blurring every boundary between us and trying my luck.
But she never gave me a reason to think she could be interested. And yeah, considering she was in a relationship, that was absolutely normal.
Still, accepting it was fucking hard for me.
“We’ve been working together for a week, and I already slept with you, and now it seems like we’re talking about the beginning of a relationship,” she says against my lips, desperately searching my face with her eyes.
“It doesn’t seem like it, Selene,” I murmur, cupping her face in my hands.
She isn’t wearing any makeup. Her hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head, and she’s dressed in a short white nightdress that barely covers her soft caramel skin.
And this is the first time tonight that I actually allow myself to pay attention to that detail.
I thought this conversation would take us somewhere completely different, and I didn’t want to torture myself any more than I already had.
“I’m directly asking you to be my girlfriend from now on, pixie,” I add before slowly dragging my tongue across her bottom lip.
A visible shiver runs through her body at my touch, and she lifts one hand to my shoulder to steady herself.
“Zayn,” she breathes my name again with that accent so thick and addictive that I’m one moment away from ending this conversation altogether just to remind her how good we are together. But I want to hear her first. I want to know what’s going on inside her head.
“Isn’t it too soon? Aren’t we rushing into this?”
Even though it tears something apart inside me, I still tell her, “If you don’t feel ready, or if it isn’t what you want, we can wait as long as you need.”
And maybe she hears the change in my tone, because she suddenly pushes me back a few steps, pressing her hands on my shoulders to sit me down on the bed.
Immediately, she parts my legs with both hands and steps between them, then tilts my chin up to make sure I’m looking directly at her.
“I was over my previous relationship before it even ended, Zayn,” she says firmly, her expression entirely serious. “There’s absolutely no chance I’ll go back or change my mind, and that’s not why I’m asking you this.”
The relief her words give me should probably concern me. Because not only do I trust her immensely, without hesitation, but I’m also so affected by everything she says that I can’t explain how I managed to stay away from her for this long.
I don’t say anything. I wait for her to tell me what scares her, or how she wants us to handle this.
“Da, vreau ca tu să fii iubitul meu. Îmi doresc asta atât de rău încât mă sperie,” (EN: Yes, I want you to be my boyfriend. I want that so badly it scares me.), she says in Romanian.
And then she starts laughing the second she sees my confused expression.
I laugh with her, biting down on my lip before I say, “You are sexy as fuck when you talk Romanian, pixie, but I don’t understand a single thing, and right now, I really want to understand you.”
Grinning, she leans in until her lips brush mine. “If you convince me, maybe I’ll translate what I said.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mmm…”
“And what exactly am I allowed to use in my attempt to convince you?”
Pulling back, she brings one hand to her face as if she’s genuinely considering it, but the look in her eyes gives her away. She wants to tease me. Wants to drive me insane.
