Page 84 of Undeniable

“Staying away from you is the biggest regret of my life. I wasn’t lying last night when I said that.”

“I’m glad you regret it… you should.”

“Glad we can agree on that part, at least,” he muttered, but I continued.

“But it’s too late, and it’s not good enough.”

“It can’t be too late,” he whispered, but I was shaking my head again.

He saw my frustration mounting and said, “I was a nineteen-year-old dumbass kid. And I’m not trying to excuse my behavior, but I can tell you that I’m not that nineteen-year-old anymore. When you ran back into the house that day, I should’ve run after you. I should’ve tried some way, somehow, to convince you that I didn’t make that stupid bet. I should’ve done whatever it took to make it right. Because I still do not remember betting I could take your virginity.”

“How am I supposed to believe you now?” I somehow managed to ask.

“Because I’ve always cared about you, Ivy. I would’ve never said something like that, no matter how much alcohol I had in my system.”

He took a step forward, and I took a half step back. Unbothered by my reaction, he continued, “I should have tried to find a way for you to believe me. Whatever it would’ve entailed, I should’ve done it. But I was stupid and terrified of what I felt. God, I wassofucking stupid. But now, living without you… that’s what I’m scared of. And I hope that you can somehow forgive me, so—”

There were tears streaming down my face, years’ worth of pent-up emotion and regret weighing heavy on my chest. He didn’t even know half of it.

“Forgiveness? Forgiveness comes at a price and you haven’t paid nearly enough yet.” I’d barely gotten the words out over a broken sob, so I didn’t have the strength to keep him from closing the distance between us and stopping right in front of me.

Strong hands clasped my cheeks, and he urged my red, tear-laden eyes to meet his.

“Then I will spend every second of every day paying whatever price you deem necessary to earn that forgiveness. You are it for me, Ivy. I didn’t fight for you then, but I’m fighting for you now. I’m not letting you go.”

There was something in his voice and in his expression that reminded me of the James I knew a long time ago. He’d begun showing me that vulnerable side of himself more and more often, and it didn’t matter how much time had passed or what happened since. Seeing that softened a part of me because that was the man I’d fallen in love with that summer and never had the chance to tell.

Something inside of me broke then. I wanted to forgive him. Or at least I wanted to work on forgiving him.

I lost my grip on the anger, and everything else fell away with it, leaving behind only the longing to let him in again.

Like he felt it too, James’s heartbroken expression turned cautiously hopeful. His eyes dropped to my lips for a moment before they returned to mine.

There were no words, and luckily, he didn’t need any to know what I wanted.

He leaned forward and kissed me. It was perfect. It was the culmination of all the heartbreak, of all the years we’d spent apart. It was bigger than any kiss had a right to be. It was everything we were and all that we could be. It was healing, like the second our lips met it began to unravel and break apart all the hurt and anger and resentment.

He was just as potent as I remembered. And I wanted him so desperately it left me breathless.

It started slow, both of us savoring the new yet memorable sensation of our lips pressed together. His lips were warm and soft and it was a relief to have them pressed against mine once again. I sighed into his mouth, but the tentative sweetness didn’t last long.

I pressed my hands against his, where they still bracketed my face, and he tilted my head to the side. My lips parted and he slid his tongue against my own. I whimpered softly and then his hands were everywhere.

Like his control snapped, he gripped the back of my thighs and hauled me into his arms. My hands weaved around his neck, and without breaking our kiss, he walked across the kitchen.

“Bedroom?” he asked quickly, and I pointed down the hallway and to the door on the left.

Skillfully, he kept a hold of me while he opened the door and kicked it closed behind him. I scraped my nails into the hair at the back of his neck as he nipped at my lower lip with a hungry groan.

Suddenly, he dropped me, and I bounced off the bed. His gaze, filled with desire and determination, swept over me. The look in his eyes nearly made me combust. It was like he was finally seeing me clearly again and he was preparing to devour every inch.

And God, did I want him to.

He pushed his hands through his damp, blond hair and scrubbed one over his stubble-covered chin, the expression on his face turning painful. He reached out and gripped my ankles, tugging me to the edge of the bed. He stepped forward and placed a single kiss on the inside of one ankle.

“Fucking beautiful,” he said reverently, running his fingers down the inside of my leg and thigh. Even with the front of my T-shirt damp from his sopping wet clothes and the rest of my appearance nothing short of disheveled, I believed him. His touch on the inside of my leg was teasing, and he stopped short of the one place I wanted him to touch most. He chuckled at my whimper.

“Even your sounds are beautiful.”

---