Page 14 of Hold Me for Now

I swallow hard. “Hold me for now,” I whisper. “I don’t need you to fix me. Just hold me.”

Something in him softens. Without a word, he rolls onto his back and pulls me into him, pressing me against his chest. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in the curve of his neck, breathing him in, taking comfort in his warmth, the slow rise and fall of his ribs beneath my palm.

Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.

I close my eyes and listen to the quiet, absorbing the way our bodies fit together so perfectly. For a moment, I let myself believe that I could stay here, like this, forever.

T’s hand moves slowly, absently, tracing circles against my back. I feel his chest rise with a breath, then still. Like he’s about to say something, but he holds it back.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours.

Finally, he exhales. “Something’s missing.”

Chapter ten

What?What’smissing?”Iask, desperate to find a solution to our problem.

“I think—” He pauses, stares off into the distance. “I think it’s love. That’s what we’re missing.”

I snort a bitter laugh. “Kinda hard to fall in love, given these circumstances. Besides, you’re already in love, with your wife.”

“I used to think I was in love with her. Now, I’m not sure, not even sure I know what love is.” T hesitates, rubbing his palm over his jaw. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore,” he admits. “It started for her. To prove I was worth staying for. But now…” His eyes flick to mine. “Now, I don’t know if I want to be fixed for her. I think I want to be fixed for me.”

His gaze finds mine, something fragile and real flickering there. “And I wantyouto feel fixed too, for yourself.”

My heart melts at that, his kindness. How he’s not just thinking about himself in this moment, but about me as well. We gaze at each other, and I feel a connection between us solidify. It hums with life, impossible but undeniable. It’s been growing since we first touched. Since he first whispered my name. Since I first let him in.

T hesitates, like he’s fighting something inside himself. “I know this isn’t forever. I understand we just met and don’t really know each other, but I have feelings for you. They probably won’t last past today, and normally I’d ignore them until they went away, but what ifthat’sthe thing we need? What if—just for now—I could love you, and you loved me back? Not as a promise. Not as a lie. Just as…this. What we are, here in this room. Two people searching for something they’ve never been given. Something we have to fight for—together.”

A lump rises in my throat. My mind protests, tells me this is reckless, that I should guard myself. But my body, my heart, they already know the answer. It was in my daydream, with the dates and the proposal, the baby. It’s true, I don’t know him at all, yet somehow I do. This experience has been so outside the realm of normal that my emotions have snowballed quickly, coalesced into something that feels very much like love.

He says it hesitantly, like he’s testing out the words. “I love you, K.” Another kiss to my forehead, so tender and sweet. “It’s not forever, not meant to last, but it’s real. It’s here inside of me. I can’t explain it. I don’t want to. Let’s just let it be.”

It’s been years since I was loved, so long ago that I don’t remember what it feels like. I’ve been admired, lusted after, used, and thrown away, but never loved. I let his words sink into me, absorb them through my skin and into my soul.

“I love you too.” I say it with more confidence than T did, maybe because my feelings are clearer, less muddled from being attached to someone else. I lift my hand and skim it along his cheek. “Just for now, and that’s okay. It’s crazy, though, isn’t it? To care about you this quickly?”

He dips his head, touches his forehead to mine. “This whole thing is crazy—doesn’t make it any less real.”

His mouth finds mine, and I let myself sink into it, let myself feel it, all of it.

The tenderness. The hunger. The warmth of his hands and the steady strength of his body.

The way he makes me feel like I matter.

His lips are salty from my tears. His tongue brushes mine, and the air around us shifts, becomes charged and electric. His hands slide down my body, stroking, soothing.

“Let me love you, just for now.” His voice catches on the words.

“Yes,” I whisper back. “Love me.”

He keeps on kissing me, lazy and slow. Like we have the entire day, a lifetime, to explore this new thing between us. I run my hands up and down his back, marveling at the solidness of him, at how his body is hard but his heart is soft.

His hand dips between my legs, and a gasp spills from my lips and colors explode behind my eyelids. I’m soaked down there, so ready for him, more than I’ve ever been. We shift together, my thighs parting like an invitation, my body welcoming his. When he slides inside, a long, shuddering breath leaves him, like he’s just come home.

He makes love to me the same way he kissed me, slow and sweet, as if he wants to savor it, make it last. Each movement is deliberate yet delicate, like I matter, as if he wants to treat me gently. Every few minutes, he sends me a tender glance, checking to see if I’m still with him, if I’m okay.

This time there’s no pressure. No urgency. I’m not thinking about how to please him or how to force my body to respond. I’m not second-guessing myself or overanalyzing every touch, every breath, every shift between us.

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