“That,” I say, coming up for air. “That’s fucking real. You feel that?”
Her lips are swollen, her eyes big. “You’re kissing me like you love me, or something.”
“Maybe I might.”
“That’s awfully romantic.” She rolls her eyes. “Can’t even commit to how you feel, but you expect me to run away with you.”
“I’ve never said those words to anyone. It’s not easy for me.”
“I’m not asking you to say them, I’m just asking you to make up your mind. Either you do or you don’t. Don’t tell me you might. That’s insulting.”
My hands slide down to the indentation above her hips. “So you’d run away with me if I told you that I…”
I can’t say it. There’s not a lot in this world that truly terrifies me. I’ve been beaten, neglected, abused emotionally and physically, but those three tiny words are more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think you’ll ever say it, so I won’t get my hopes up.”
“You’re hopeful that I—”
She folds her arms. “Yeah. I am. I hope you’ll tell me you’ll love me because then I’ll know all this fooling around, all the back and forth, all of it was for a reason greater than either one of us ever realized.”
“Do you…?”
“Yes,” she says, like it’s no big deal, like it’s something she accepted a long time ago. “I love you.”
I can’t remember the last time anyone ever told me that. Perhaps it was a grandparent or an aunt when I was little, and I’m sure it was written in a birthday card. But I’d never heard those words, spoken to me, out loud. Warmth threads my veins.
The feeling is mutual, and the words are on the tip of my tongue. “These last few months have been the best months of my life.”
“Mine too.” She stands on her toes, lifting her mouth to mine.
I have to have her—now. It’s not carnal; it’s a craving much deeper. My cock swells from her kiss, enhanced from the way her body is pressed against mine. I reach for her pants, unbuckling her jeans and then mine.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is breathless as she pulls from my mouth.
I pull a condom from my wallet and sheath myself before taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs. Waverly climbs onto my lap, lowering herself into me. Her hips rock and circle, her head tilts backward. I grip her hips, guiding her up and down. She’s so fucking tight, her muscles clenching around me with each fluid movement.
There’s an intimate sensuality in her eyes I’ve never seen before, I recognize it the second our eyes meet. And the warmth threading through my veins? That must be what love feels like.
She moans, louder than ever, celebrating the fact that we don’t have to muffle ourselves here because the party inside drowns out our passionate sounds. And then she calls my name, gripping my shoulders as she rocks back and forth. She runs her tongue along the length of her bottom lip, her eyes shut tight.
I feel the buildup in the base of my cock, spreading to the tip, seconds away from exploding. Her body tenses as her fingers dig into me, and she rides me harder, faster. My release is urgent, hot, and her body clenches around my cock as she breathes my name once more.
She collapses, her head on my shoulder as our chests rise and fall against one another.
That time was different.
I’m going to tell her I love her. Maybe not right now. But I will. Because I do.
I fucking love Waverly Miller.
CHAPTER 26
Waverly
“Waverly, wake up.” There’s panic in his voice. My face is warm, my eyelids the color of warm amber. I blink, rubbing my eyes.
And then I panic. “Jensen!”
It’s daylight. We’re lying on the floor of the balcony where we passed out the night before.
“Oh, my God. Shit. Shit. Shit!” I’ve never said any of those words before, and now I don’t even care that I’ve said them. My mind spins in tandem with my churning stomach.
“Mark’s going to murder us.” Jensen’s tone is more matter-of-fact than urgent as he pulls me up and then pats his pockets for his keys. We slip inside the apartment, out the door, and spring down the stairs, two at a time.
I’m not sure why we’re in such a hurry. It’s not like getting home any faster will save us from what’s about to happen. If anything we should be taking our time, prolonging the unavoidable punishment my father will fling our way.
It’s going to be bad.
It’s going to be really, really, really bad.