Page 54 of Never Have I Ever

Caressing her cheek, I run the pad of my thumb over the apple of it. “I’ve had other things to keep me occupied.”

Her sweet smile falters, and she whispers, “You’re famous, aren’t you?” The burdens of the world infuse her pretty eyes as the realization of what that means begins to dawn. I know. I live it every fucking day of my life. No peace. No privacy. No sincerity. It’s hard to trust anyone, and I question everybody’s motives.

I don’t want that with her, but I knew I couldn’t hide my life from her forever, even if I wanted to protect her from it. “Not enough, apparently,” I reply, trying to win back her smile.

A laugh jolts her body, but then she playfully pushes me with a pout built on her mouth. “Funny,” she replies. “But I feel stupid for not knowing.”

“Don’t.” I grasp her wrists and bring her hands to my mouth, kissing each one. “I’m glad you don’t know who I am.”

“I felt I did. Inside . . . or was starting to.” A sigh carries her breath away, and she adds, “So much about you felt familiar.” She humorlessly laughs to herself, one of her hands slipping from me to rub her forehead. “I thought we were sharing something special.” Her eyes dart to the ceiling, but I can see her emotions distancing from me. “You’re only familiar because you’re famous. I feel like a fool because none of it was real.”

“It is, Poppy.”

“I probably saw you on TV or . . .” She doesn’t say in concert, but the inference is out there. Fuck.

Sitting up, I say, “I wouldn’t be here—”

“You mean, I wouldn’t be here. Not still. Not after we had sex.” She pulls back even more, her entire body shifting away. “Not in your bed. I would have been the fun you had in the hot tub or the girl you fucked on the couch.”

“Don’t say that.” Anger doesn’t come for me, but the fear of losing her hits straight to the heart. “Don’t doubt that I’ve given—”

“What have you given, Laird? Not your last name. Not even your profession until after I had sex with you.” She covers herself as if she needs the protection. From me?

What the fuck is happening?

She says, “You know so much about me, that I’m a chef, that I—”

“I don’t know your last name.”

“Stanfield. Poppy Stanfield. You can look me up. You’ll find more than I want out there. I’m the daughter of a CEO of some mega-corporation who doesn’t care about the planet or the damage he does to others, and he most definitely doesn’t care about me.” Her eyes haven’t left mine, but her expression has morphed, the doubt replaced with fire. “I was raised by a mother who told me to always marry for money because you can never have enough. To have kids quickly to trap that inheritance and secure the prenup payment for when they cheat on you and find a younger model. For reference, she’s worth more than she can spend in four lifetimes. I’m a—”

“You’re a trained chef and have three different knife tattoos to honor levels of achievement you haven’t shared with me, but I want to hear all about it or, even better, watch you in action. You laugh more when you’re drunk, and you don’t hide your feelings. Your eyes have these gold flecks, and every time I’m lucky enough to see them in the sunlight, I feel like I’ve discovered treasure. Little gold coins that are sometimes lost in the waves of sea green and driftwood. You’re spontaneous, but because of the accident, you hesitate more. A confidence that deserves to be there is now shaken.” I exhale but lower my voice and say, “I don’t know who was by your side after the accident, but I wish I could have been there for you. I wouldn’t have left.”

I want to take her hand that’s fallen to the bed, the one that lies palm up instead of fisted at her chest. I don’t because I won’t pressure her. But I do add, “This is real for me, Poppy. I have a lot to be ashamed of. Being with you is one of the few things not on that list.” I suck in one more deep breath because even though I had no intention of laying out my feelings like this, there’s no point in stopping now. “I was going to say I gave you more of me than anyone else. Everyone else just took what they wanted.”

We’re stuck in a staring standoff—no smiles are exchanged, no words, not even a breath. And then she lunges for me, her mouth crashing into mine, her hands grabbing at my head, pulling my hair, then dropping to my shoulders as we fall back on the bed. I’m pinned to the bed with her on top. Her hands slide into mine, our fingers entwining.

With her legs straddling me, she lifts to look into my eyes. But horror fills them instead of pleasure. “Oh God.” She starts trying to free her fingers, but I don’t let her. “I just did what you said everyone else does. Takes. I was taking what I wanted—”

“No, you were accepting what I was willing to give.” Still locking her hands to mine, I say, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You can have all of me, Poppy. Take it because I’m no good without you.”

Her chest heaves above me, her thoughts spinning in her eyes as she searches mine. “You haven’t lied to me, right?”

I’m shaking my head before I even answer. “No. Never.” I tick through my confessions, moving the omissions to justifications because I’ve only ever done what’s right for her. “For me, this is real. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”

Worry creases her brow, and she bites her lip while studying me. “It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours, and we’re making declarations?”

“Yes. I don’t need to protect myself from you. I know who you are. I know I can trust you.”

When she bends to kiss me this time, it’s slow and deliberate. “How can you say that when you barely know me?”

“Because I see the person you are. I know who you are on the inside.” I free her hands, having said all I can in hopes of her believing me, in hopes of her staying.

She caresses my face as her body rocks on top of me. “I trust you, Laird.” She stills only briefly. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I swear to God, Poppy. I will never hurt you. I’ll never let you down, baby.”

And when I slide inside her, it’s not only sex we’re sharing. It’s love we’re making.

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