Page 129 of If Only In Our Dreams

It was the kind that made you feel cracked open, your rawest most vulnerable bits exposed. And yet, here I was, trusting Ben with all the things that hurt. Because I knew he’d protect them, even better than I had.

“I think for most of my life I’ve been so scared of hurting the people I love that I’ve kept them at a distance. I told myself it was because I was being protective. That I was doing right by them.” It was hard to get the next words out, hoarse as my voice was. “But I think that’s just a lie I said so that I could hide behind my choices.” Ben’s eyes were fathomless, the warmth in them neverfading. “The person I was actually protecting…this whole time…was me.”

I’d never admitted that to anyone, not even myself.

“Because I thought—if one more person—” My voice broke. “If one more person lets me down, I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Baby,” Ben’s voice was a rumbly, crackly murmur. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I reached up, dashing them away, the city lights nothing but a blur.

“When I love people—” I hiccuped, “they hurt me.”

“Shhh, I know.” I don’t know how, but Ben magicked our wine glasses away. And then he was curling around me, blocking out the lights and the world. And all there was left in my peripheral vision was cashmere. There was only his cologne. Only his biceps, and how lovely they felt huddled around my body.

His breath ruffled my hair.

“I’m so scared of being hurt.”

“I know.” Ben kissed my head. He kissed it again. And again. He squeezed me tighter, and I broke—let all my pieces fall loose. “I know.”

“But you won’t hurt me,” I managed, surprised by how sure I was as the words come out. “You won’t.”

“I won’t,” Ben agreed—a promise.

“Because you’re Ben Montgomery.”

“I am.”

“And youalwayskeep your promises.”

“I do.”

Ben’s mouth tasted like happiness, which sounds cheesy, I know, but it’s true. His breath was warm, and his tongue was warmer—and his body felt impossibly large where it squashed mine into the mattress.

We hadn’t started out here.

First we kissed against the window. We’d tested Ben’s nerves as syrupy sweet kisses turned harder and rougher. The glass had been chilly against my back—if only because Ben’s body had been so,sowarm. I’d clung and clung, and he’d clung back just as fiercely.

Like he was worried if he stopped holding me I’d simply sift right through his fingers.

I’ve had sex loads of times. Years ago, when I’d first started out and moved to L.A. with no money in my pockets, and no friends—one-night-stands were the easiest way to find a place to rest at night.

I’d slept in hundreds of foreign beds.

Done the walk of shame what felt like a billion times.

Given pieces of myself away with every encounter.

Thiswas the first time I’d been with someone and I felt like they were giving back. Like…this was one of those silly, dopey love movies from the 90s. Like we weren’t fucking at all. Like it was deeper than that. I was Julia Roberts and Ben was the sexy man who had decided that despite my flaws, maybe even because of them, he was going to keep me.

Making love.

That’s whatthisfelt like.

Especially as Ben very carefully, very slowly—because no one wanted him to get hurt, thank you very much—oh my god, carried me up the stairs to my room and laid me on the bed. He always treated me like I was something fragile and precious. Like I was a delight, no matter what I was doing. He asked meagainif this was what I wanted—and I’d laughed, because he was so annoyingly sweet it made me want to scream sometimes.

And then we kissed.

And kissed some more.

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