“Look at me with those ‘I’m so cute you have to believe me’ eyes. It confuses me.” I move a step back, trying to create enough space that I can think straight.
He moves another step forward, eating up the space I created only a moment before. There is no escaping him.
“The last two weeks have been hell,” he says. “I don’t like not talking to you. I don’t like not being with you. I’ve barely even seen you.” His hand finds my waist and my lips part with a breath at the touch. His lips find my neck. “I want you,” he whispers.
My resolve is crumbling.
“You left,” I protest weakly.
“I know,” he murmurs. “Never again. Let me make it up to you. Let me make it right.”
I feel like I’m at war with my own mind and body.
I want him, but the desire to protect my heart is strong.
But my heart is already hurting so is giving him a chance really such a bad thing?
“What does this mean?” I ask him. “What are we?” I don’t mean to put a label on it, but I need to know if this is just sex or something more.
“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before. I don’t know if I can do that. But I do know that I’m tired of trying to fight this. I’m tired of denying that I feel more for you than just friendship. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you.”
I swallow thickly. Fear chokes me.
“Give me a chance,” he pleads. “I know I screw up at every turn, but I also know that I care about you and you care about me, and that means something, right?”
I stare into his eyes, and there’s no denying the complete honesty in his words. He’s breaking down every wall I’ve built around my heart—not just in the last two weeks, but in the last two years as well.
When you’ve loved someone and it’s ended in devastation, it makes you weary and less willing to take risks with your heart.
But some things are unavoidable.
Jace is like a car speeding down the road headed straight for me and I can’t move out of the way fast enough. I don’t know if I want to move. Maybe I just want to end it all—or maybe it’s not the end, and the beginning instead.
“I don’t k
now if I want to be your girlfriend,” I tell him, because I feel like he needs to know that. “But if we do this we have to be exclusive.”
He cups my cheeks in both hands, smoothing his thumbs over my freckles. “I’m yours,” he whispers, his eyes flaring, and I believe him.
Before I can blink, his mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me like his life depends on it.
I don’t know how we went from the silent treatment to this, but I don’t care to stop and figure it out.
He groans, and I revel in that sound, that I make him lose his mind the way he’s been making me lose mine for months.
He picks me up easily and my legs wind around his waist. A moment later my butt rests on the counter and he stands in-between my legs.
He kisses me like his life depends on it.
Fire builds inside me, and he matches it in intensity. His fingers glide down my waist, over my butt, and down to my thighs. I shiver as he moves back up, his fingers sliding beneath my shirt, teasing at the skin of my stomach. My breaths are rapid as he moves his lips down my neck and over the curves of my breasts peeking beneath my sleep shirt. His eyes flick up to mine, and I wonder if he can feel how fast my heart is beating.
An ache builds inside me, only one he can sate.
If I’m honest with myself, we’ve been tiptoeing around this a lot longer than the last few weeks.
Our chemistry has been sparking since the first time we met, but I wasn’t interested in sex, and Jace needed a friend more than he needed a bed buddy. So, we found a happy medium. But our spark never dulled, and instead, as our friendship grew, so did it.
“I can’t decide if I want to take my time with you or fuck you senseless,” he murmurs, lips against my throat.