His response is bone-tired. “You said I didn’t trust you. This is me showing you that I do. Nobody else knows. I asked the funeral home to cremate her body, and I declined to print a death notice. If you wanted to destroy me, this is how you could do it. I’m telling you because I want you to know I do trust you.”
“I would never tell a soul unless you wanted me to.”
His lashes flutter shut, and when they open again, gray eyes ensnare me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being fascinated with them. Forever and a day still wouldn’t be long enough to study the artistry of Landon Blackwood.
“Does this mean you could forgive me?” He’s gripping my waist with his fingers in a silent plea.
I consider it. That’s a loaded question if there ever was one. If I say yes, that means we’re really doing this. We’re all in. In my heart, I know I want that, but I’m still scared. So I ask him the question that’s been on my mind since I found the tablet in my backpack instead.
“Did you read my journal app?”
He lifts one shoulder noncommittally as he knows he’s in trouble. “I just wanted to see what was on it. I expected more pictures of me with my eyes scratched out or something.”
“Oh, my god,” I grumble. He knows about all my obsessive stalker entries.
“If you’re in the market, I know a guy who can get you some of that deodorant you like so much.” His tone is playful now, the darkness of the past few minutes behind us. “The cologne too…”
“Don’t sound so smug, okay.” I glare up at him. “I saw the drawer in your closet.”
His eyes widen. “Yeah, well…”
I grab his face and drag it down to mine. Our lips crash together, and it feels like lightning zinging through my veins. I’m alive, and so is he. All my fears are swept away in a rush of need. It’s breeding inside me, manifesting in my greedy hands as they slide beneath his shirt to touch his bare skin.
My legs are squeezing together, fingers gripping, teeth biting. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. He tangles his huge palms in my hair, angling my head back so he can deepen our kiss. His tongue slides over mine, and he breathes life into me. I can feel it changing me, all the way down to my DNA. I don’t know where his soul ends and mine begins anymore.
My heart beats faster as I silently acknowledge the depth of the feelings I’ve been trying to deny for so long. And then, like an echo, I hear the words repeated back to me.
“Kail, you made me care,” he whispers against my skin. “I’ve been a dick, and I screwed this up a million different ways, but I need you to understand this. I… care.”
I think that’s Landon’s version of I love you. When I peek up at him, his eyes are tormented. His fists are curled into my clothes now, anchoring his body to mine. It’s terrifying, this feeling. That fear is electrifying our skin. He could hurt me again. I could hurt him. Vulnerability sucks. We have a lot of armor to unpack. Weapons to put down. Wounds to heal. But right now, I just want to feel him.
Landon buries his face in my neck and breathes me in. He doesn’t know what to expect from me. When I slip my fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and touch his skin, his eyes flash back to mine.
“We can talk tomorrow,” I say.
He seems frozen, unsure, so I push him along by dragging his shirt up over his head. He watches me with blazing eyes as I toss it aside and reach down to cup the hard bulge in his jeans. When I lean up on my toes to kiss him again, he finally caves. Slowly, he walks me back toward my bed, stripping off my shirt, bra, and panties. I distract him by tugging down his zipper, so he’ll leave my skirt on, and then all that’s left is my ugly boot, which I yank off and set aside. He stares at my ankle for far too long, shoulders tightening, hands clenching. I touch his jaw and force his gaze back to me.
“Tomorrow,” I remind him. We can talk about all the shitty stuff tomorrow.
He nods stiffly and eases his body over mine, tipping my chin up to connect our eyes in the deepest way. My nipples brush against his skin. The softness of my belly rubs against his hard abs, and for a second, I’m consciously aware of the fact that he must feel it. He must have noticed I’ve gained back the weight. My body was made to be curvy, and I realize I can’t fight it anymore. But just because I’ve realized that doesn’t mean I’m not still at war in my head. Landon senses my distraction, and when he drags his hands up over my rounded hips, he squeezes, his approval rumbling from his chest. He can’t fake that hunger in his eyes. So, for once, I accept it, and it stirs a primal need in me. His erection is poking against me, so close. Just a couple of inches lower and he could be inside. Drugging me with the hypnotic thrusts of his glorious body.