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“Johnny…”

“No, hear me out, Shan,” he hurried to say, resting a hand on mine. “I can only tell you what I know,” he added, tone hoarse, eyes heated. “That from the very first day you walked into my life, youchangedme. That very first time I saw you? You sparked to life something inside of me.” Releasing a heavy sigh, he shrugged again, eyes locked on mine. “And I haven’t been the same since.”

My heart galloped wildly in my chest. “Really?”

He nodded slowly as a small smile crept across his face. “Boom.”

I blew out a shaky breath. “Boom.”

“So to answer all those fucked-up thoughts in your pretty head, Idon’twant Bella or anything even remotely like what I had with her,” he continued. “I want whatwehave together. I want our friendship. I want your company. I want our conversations. I just wanttimewith you. And I’m not in any rush. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t know where this is going, or when I’m kissing you that I’m looking for more than you’re ready to give. I won’t do that to you. I won’t take what you can’t give, and Iwon’tpush, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Sex isn’t even important. It’s just one fucking part of it, a part that can wait for as long you want.”

He was right.

Oh god, he was totally right.

Mortification swamped me.

“I don’t think I’m ready, Johnny,” I whispered, cheeks flaming.

“I know,” he replied, smirking. “And that’sokay.”

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice, and I clung to his certainty. “Okay,” I croaked out, shifting closer.

“You make me happy,” he whispered. “I want to stick with that. I want to stick withyou.”

“Johnny…” My voice trailed off as I contemplated the importance of what he’d just said. “You make me happy, too.”

“And I think I owe you another pair of tights.” He poked at the huge ladder in my tights and shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”

I smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”

Smiling back, he lifted his arm and I slid into the space. “I like where we are, Shan.” His words curled around my heart like a comfort blanket. “We’ll get there when we get there,” he added after a contented pause of silence. “I’m not in any hurry.” I felt his lips brush the top of my head. “Not with you.”

33

Thank You Jesus

Johnny

I was a saint.

No joke.

I was fairly sure I deserved a medal for the self-restraint I displayed in Claire’s bedroom earlier. I doubted there was another lad my age with feelings for a girl like the ones I had for Shannon—for a girl wholookedlike Shannon—that could have stopped that from progressing.

Hours later and I was still coming to terms with the best and worst thing I had ever done. Because I wanted to be inside that girl more than I wanted my next breath, and having her dangle her virginity in front of my nose like a fucking Grand Slam medal was the worst kind of temptation. But I did therightthing, dammit. I stopped it. I put whatsheneeded before whatIwanted, and that knowledge put me somewhat at peace. So afterward, when I had smoothed things over and we went downstairs, I drank hot chocolate with her friend, I made the small talk, I provided the reassurance I knew she needed from me, and I reined in Gibsie as best I could, and I did all this with the worst case of blue balls known to man.

When Sinead Biggs came in from work a little after nine and gave me and Gibs our marching orders, I could have wept with joy. As messed up as it sounded, I wasrelievedthe woman had showed up and kicked us out, because I needed a time-out.

I needed to go home, and fast, because I couldn’ttake itanymore.

It had been over five fucking months, and pain or not, I was going to come.

Even if it killed me, dammit.

I could hardly speak a word the entire drive back to my house. The anticipation was killing me and I was racked with nerves. Fear, excitement, and lust were the dominant emotions rushing through my body, driven forward by the memory of Shannon on her back, with me between her legs.

Thankfully, Gibsie was brooding silently in the driver’s seat and didn’t turn off the engine when he pulled up outside my house. Instead, he offered a half-hearted, “I’ll pick you up in the morning, lad,” before returning to staring out the windscreen.

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