Page 77 of Crazy for this Girl

"Yeah."

"I wanna marry you one day, Laynee. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted."

"Then why can't you stay with me?" I thrust deep—like a class A fucking asshole—craving that thought to leave her head and stop pestering her and me with it.

I want everything I just said, but it's not that easy, is it?

"Stay with me now," I quip. "Right now. Just don't forget me."

"Are you going to Switzerland?"

A broken chuckle rumbles off my chest because it always circles back to that damn place. "Not without you."

"But you'll tell me? One day...you’ll tell me everything?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Then make this something I'll wait for." I shake my head, but I don't say anything more because in the morning, I'm out of North Carolina and back to the airport on an early as hell flight back to Cali.

I don’t want to breathe because it’ll mean another inhale and exhale without her.

My guilty conscience is taking all of that from me anyway. It's punishing me because I'm fully aware I'm not going to be the Cal Harper that comes back to her. I'm going to be a man that saw things that I won't be able to unsee. I’ve heard stories and they terrify me. Of men who come back fucked up and broken. I almost don't want to come back at all if it means Laynee is going to hate me and I'm going to come home to nothing.

I'd rather die than be a disappointment in her eyes.

We're a mess of kisses, as my brain plays out a civil war in my head. Laynee breaks apart against me, and I'm seconds behind her, my body breaking into shards of pleasure before I pull out and come in my fist.

This wasn't supposed to go like this, you fucking asshole.

Laynee kisses me again and the devil on my shoulder revels in it.

But she’s mine. She was always meant to be mine.

I subtly break from her and get a cloth from the bathroom to clean us both off. Her naked body is waiting for me when I come back, and I immediately want to go again but refrain.

Once was enough.

Once was everything.

"Cal Harper, have you been working out?" She perks a brow but allows her blues to fall shamelessly down my body for the second time.

I like that she’s checking me out. I love that she wants to infuse me to her thoughts when I’m not around.

"A little," I mutter, wiping her down and wanting to press my mouth down there to say I did that too.

"You're making me feel self-conscious. If you would've told me we were—"

"You're perfect," I interject. "Don't ever change, Laynee. That was fucking amazing and I...I’d love to go again, but chill. You’re gonna kill me."

She smiles into one of those breath-taking smiles she does when she’s happy. "I won't."

Gathering her up in my arms, I toss the towel to the floor and pull the covers over the both of us to keep her warm. Laynee nestles herself against me, her head lying in the crook of my shoulder and chest as she places her hand over my heart.

"You're perfect, too," she says. "I've always thought that."

"Yeah, well..." I clear my throat. "Don't stroke my ego, Laynee. I'm already an asshole."

She chuckles as I run my fingers through her soft hair. I don't have to tell her to go to sleep because she does within another few minutes. And by morning, I haven't slept, I have my shit packed, and I leave her a bullshit note on the back of a receipt that I found in one of the dresser drawers from two years ago.

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