‘Look at me.’
She does, glaring at me and, despite the fact her body is rampant with desire, I can’t miss her emotions—her anger, her frustration.
‘Let yourself feel this,’ I say, moving gently now, slowly, while my eyes stay locked to hers, daring her to look away. She doesn’t and, as I move, pleasure drives anger from her face, but whenever she looks away from me I draw her gaze back to mine, so that when we come, our bodies moving to that climax in unison, our eyes are meeting, sharing, communicating.
>
I drop my face, burying it in her neck, breathing her in, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. She shifts beneath me after only a minute, pulling away from me, pushing my arm off her, getting off the bed. When I look at her she’s shaking a little, and her gestures are fast, rapid.
‘Thanks for that.’
‘This again?’
She looks around but only her pants are in here—her shirt is out in the lounge.
‘What?’
‘You’ve got what you want so now you leave? Until the next time you want this itch scratched?’
‘No. There won’t be a next time.’
I contemplate that, something sharp at my side. I want to shout and scream but at the same time I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want to upset her. Fuck, this woman is in my head and I can’t get her out.
I compress my lips, the finality of her statement unnerving me and pissing me off in equal measure. ‘So that’s it? You walk out of here and go back to your life?’
‘As opposed to?’
‘Staying and facing the music.’
‘And what music would that be?’
I can’t help it. I stand up, moving closer to her so our bodies connect and our faces are just inches apart.
‘This. You and me. The future.’
She pales even further. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that we’ve been sleeping together and at the same time falling in love, and you might think you can just click your fingers and bring an end to that, but you can’t. I love you and that’s not something you can just put back in a box. This is real, Avery. You and me, the way we make each other feel—all my life I’ve been waiting to meet someone like you. I’ve met enough women to know how different you are—how different this is.’
‘I’m a challenge,’ she snaps, shaking her head and stepping away from me. ‘And you’re deluded if you think any part of this is love.’
‘Every part of it is love,’ I correct, following her into the living room. She scoops up her shirt and drags it on without a bra. ‘Avery, have you ever felt like this?’
She opens her mouth then abruptly shuts it again. A minute later she speaks. ‘This is a weird situation. The Harts, the reason you’re here—’
‘Is completely irrelevant to this.’
I swoop forward, catching her hands and lifting them between us. ‘I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you and me, the way we make each other feel. I’m talking about your strength and your fire and your soul and your heart. I am completely in love with you, Avery.’
She frowns, like I’m speaking a foreign language.
I exhale, speaking calmly. ‘You’re used to being on your own. That’s become something you pride yourself on and I’m asking you to turn your back on that. I’m asking you to open yourself up to a relationship with me—not just sex, love, real, lasting love. I’m asking you to trust in something you’ve never seen with your own eyes—a happy ending. I’m asking you to trust me that we can have that, together. I’m asking you to let me put my heart in yours and keep it there for the rest of our lives.’
Jesus. So much for going slowly. She looks like she’s about to pass out. She wrenches her hands away from mine as though I’m spreading acid over her flesh.
‘No, God, Barrett, what the actual hell? Don’t talk like this, please.’
‘Like what?’ I ask gently, even when I feel like I’m being split in two. ‘Don’t be honest with you? Don’t point out the obvious?’