I need to breathe.
I need to think.
I need to wait out the storm until I can find dry ground again.
Standing outside my bedroom door, I catch a glimpse of Jensen’s door. It’s half open. The light is on. I pull in a long, cleansing breath, wipe my tears on the back of my sleeves, and show myself in. I really don’t want to be alone right now.
He’s seated on the floor, his back against his bed and his knees bent. He’s sketching, zoned out.
“Hey,” I say. I tuck my curled hair behind my ears and shut the door behind me.
He sets his sketchpad down and shakes his head. “Fuck, Waverly. What the hell just happened downstairs?”
I bite my lip and blink away foggy tears. I can’t say it. If I say it, it becomes real, and if it becomes real, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I battle my wars in complete silence, the way I’ve been taught to do.
Jensen reaches for my hand, pulling me down to the floor with him. “You know you don’t have to worry about a damn thing, right? He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
I want to believe his words hold weight, but he doesn’t understand. He has no idea how things work with the AUB and my father’s expectations. It’s not that simple.
“You’re going to tell me I have a choice,” I say.
His lips inch up at the sides, soft and strangely inviting. I realize just how close we’re sitting now. I breathe him in, closing my eyes and getting lost in his world for just a split second. I’d give anything to be anywhere but in my own reality.
“You know me well,” he says, his voice pulling me nearer. Or maybe it’s him. His hand slips around my shoulders and he brings me into a side embrace. I laugh to myself because he’s not a touchy-feely person. He’s tough and unreadable at times, rarely showing an ounce of emotion that isn’t provocative or inciting. If a side hug is all he can offer me, I’ll take it.
We’re friends now, and that’s kind of important because I haven’t been allowed to have close friends for a long time—not since Claire Fahnlander almost outed us back in middle school.
I sit up and open my eyes, immediately losing them in his dark, brooding gaze. My desire to taste his lips and sense his touch never subsided despite my best efforts. His fingertips graze my arm, igniting a wave of impulsivity. My lips part, our faces only a dangerous few inches apart. My heart quickens, and I’m struggling to breathe. I could kiss him if I wanted to, but I won’t. I need his friendship, and I don’t want to make things complicated.
The moment passes and my reckless, wild notion goes right along with it. I’m sure it would’ve been amazing. I’m sure it would’ve set my world on fire. It probably would’ve felt all kinds of wrong and delicious, but now I’ll never know.
Jensen cups my cheek, his thumb pressing against my bottom lip, mocking the pressure of a soft kiss. I sigh. He could own me with one kiss, and I wouldn’t even fight it.
I need to rebel.
I need to feel.
I need to know that my life still belongs to me.
I close my eyes while I focus on the sensation of his thumb against my mouth until it disappears, fading away only to be replaced with the real thing.
Jensen Mackey is kissing me.
I’m not imagining it.
It’s not a fantasy or a late-night reverie.
His lips are warm and he grasps the back of my neck, digging his fingers into my flesh as he guides me closer to him. Our lips dance, soft and slow, until our tongues meet. Jensen’s tongue swirls around mine, all velvet and sin.
My body responds to his kiss with an intensity too overwhelming to ignore. I’m powerless in his presence, only it’s a powerlessness I fully embrace.
His kisses still my mind, willing my body to do all the work. My thoughts are at rest, and each passing second is an exhilarating trip into the unknown. I know where this is headed; my body tells me so.
Jensen pulls his lips from mine, we’re both breathless. My lips are swollen and heated. I want more. I crave more. Hard deep kisses that make me forget my name. One taste and I’m left with unsatisfied urges and petulant disappointment.
“Waverly.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair. “We shouldn’t do th—”
I silence his objection with a kiss of my own, one that says I’m perfectly okay with whatever it is we’re doing right now. He kisses me back, hungry and accepting, pulling me into his lap.
The rest of the family is downstairs with Bruce. I’ll take the odds and place my bet that they’ll leave me alone for the immediate future. Causing a scene in front of a church elder is the last thing they want to do.