Page 161 of Talk Nerdy To Me
My eyes stay locked on his as his gaze grows more intense. He settles himself between my legs again so subtly that I don’t even try to stop him.
“I shouldn’t have ever made you think you had to try so hard with me, Britt. You’re practical and honest. You should have just been able to say what you needed to say, and I should have heard it. We would have gotten here a lot sooner. You’re overcomplicating it,” he volleys.
I’ve drastically overestimated my ability to reason with him.
“Let’s say we meet in the middle and call these last three months a chance to focus on ourselves and our careers while you processed your emotions. Now we can move on to the next phase,” he says, now just being absurd with his oversimplification.
“What next phase?” I ask, because I need some direction on where he’s misunderstanding me.
“Now it’s time to do this for real,” he adds, leaning down to brush his lips over mine again.
I can’t tell if he’s stubborn, determined, or obtuse right now.
“Do you need to go ask a Sterling if they think you’re good enough for me? Because I’ll wait right here while you do that, if that’s what you need right now,” he goes on with a straight face.
“Anything said out of context sounds silly when used in that tone. You’re not taking me seriously.”
He reaches up, pulling one of my hands off his cheek, and kisses the palm of it.
“I already told you I love you, Britt. Who’s not taking whom seriously?” He darts a look at me. “Did I use whom right in a sentence?”
When he grins, I sink down on the mattress, letting my head fall back as he resumes kissing the side of my hand.
“You admitted to stalking my social media these past three months, want nothing but good fucking things for me, and became a dark queen while coping.” I feel his smile growing against my hand, and I open my eyes as he meets my gaze and adds, “I’m gonna say it’s safe to guess you love me too, and for the record, I’ve come to a great number of epiphanies these last three months.”
I feel a tear escape the far corner of my eye and roll down the side of my face.
“Statistically, the odds of this getting better instead of worse are highly discouraging, and you should look at the compilation of information I’ve gathered on the subject,” I tell him as a last ditch effort, my will not as stubborn or determined as his.
I miss him too much.
“You know you can’t put people in the smallest boxes designed for them, Britt,” he says as he smirks down at me. “The human element fucks with the plans in your head all the time. Do you love me?”
I know he doesn’t suffer from the disillusion that love truly does conquer all, so I have no idea why he’s pressing this.
“I cry when I try to throw your toothbrush away. The thought of experiencing intimacy with anyone else still nauseates me. Obviously, that’s a forgone conclusion by this—”
He kisses me again, his body coming down on top of mine as my fingers slide up his bare back and my legs wind around his waist.
“I’m trying to be mature and practical about this,” I say against his lips, even as my nails press against his skin on reflex.
“Stop trying to save me, Britt,” he says between kissing me and pulling my legs wider. “I don’t need to be saved.”
I pause, idly wondering if I should have factored in a hero complex on my side of the statistical disadvantages in our relationship. It’ll have to wait, though, because he kisses me to distraction once again.
I give up the fight, because the last resistance in me is gone, all the aching fading more and more the longer he kisses me.
His hand moves away from us, and I hear the crinkling of what can only be the condom wrapper that he threw on the bed…
I break the kiss and pull back as he rips open the package with his teeth.
“You made up your mind twenty-three minutes ago and I shared more of my rehearsed arguments during that time for no reason,” I say as my mind finally pieces together the real reason he started undressing.
Pushing up to his knees, his lips tilt in a wicked little grin as he stares down at me and starts rolling the condom on, no shame or modesty. Another one of my favorite things about him.
He doesn’t answer as he leans back down, his lips teasing mine as he shoves my dress up.
“My newest realized fantasy is fucking a dark queen with pointy ears and gothic eye makeup. I’m seriously turned on by this dark, evil-genius sort of angle you take when you’re missing me,” he adds, still oversimplifying.
