Page 76 of Between Now and Forever
Finally, I pull away, desperate for air. As soon as we’re apart, we look at each other and laugh, collapsing onto the floor.
“That was worth it,” I say, catching my breath.
He rolls onto his side and stares at me. “Worth what?”
I know what I’m about to say is going to set him off. But I can’t resist.
“This was totally worth not going home with Bryant.”
I barely get the words out before he’s on top of me, and I’m giggling like crazy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JAY
The moonlight streams through the windows of my bedroom. Shadows flicker across the wall, the limbs of the giant oak tree outside the window blowing in the breeze. I pull Gabrielle closer to my side and breathe her in.
For the first time in four long, hard years, I feel as though peace—if only a sliver—is attainable. Usually, I lie in bed and overthink—ripping apart every decision, every conversation I’ve had, that brought me to this place. A place that most nights I loathe.
No one enjoys being bitter—anger is uncomfortable—but both emotions have dominated my life for a long time. I’ve both hated it and wished it away, and held on to it, because it was better than the alternative of feeling sorry for myself.
“What are you thinking about?” Gabrielle whispers into the quiet.
“Not much. You?”
She hums against my side.
“I thought you were asleep,” I say.
“I was, but I’m not used to having someone in bed with me. Every time it registers that there’s a body beside mine, I wake up.”
Please say no.“Do you want to go home?”
She raises her head high enough to look at me. Her eyes are sleepy, her lids heavy. She’s absolutely beautiful.
My chest tightens as if it’s putting on armor. I know the feeling well. But this time, I don’t want to wall off from the perceived threat. The idea of having anything more than a sheet between us is unfair. It’s just not that easy to break old habits.
“Do you want me to go?” she asks.
“Come here.”
I pull her down so that her head rests against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, snuggling her beneath my chin.
“Can I ask you something?” She draws designs with her fingertips on my stomach. “I don’t want to pressure you. I’m just curious.”
“Okay.”
The designs on my abs slow. “I want you to know you’re right. What you said earlier—that if we have sex, it’ll be hard to forget.” The circles stop and her palm lies flat against me. “It’s already hard to forget.”
I watch the ceiling fan spin in methodical circles.
Those words were a warning—to me, as they were to her. Verbalizing what I knew to be true, that if I slept with her, I was giving in to the feelings I’ve had for her since I saw her lying in that bush.
That I wanted her.
But I feared it would be more than that.Knowingwhat she felt like would shift thewantto aneed. Seeing her with that asshole at the bar set off a jealousy that I didn’t expect. Thinking of her with someone else now ... I can’t.
“So ...” she says, prompting a response.
