Page 15 of The Trust
I turn into his touch and allow myself to slump against his chest. “Then lay here with me until we’re late for the afternoon shit.”
Mac’s chuckle echoes through the ear I have presses against him and my stomach flips.
Then it turns.
I’m not hiding him.
But If I’m not hiding him—us—then why stay in.
Again.
If we have the morning to ourselves, then why is this my automatic response?
“Mac,” I mutter and press my ear harder to the space between his pecs where his heart thumps.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Do you think I’m hiding you?” He stiffens, but now that it’s out, I can’t stop. “Do you want to be in public with me? It’s a fuckinglot, I know, and it would make things difficult as shit.” I turn into his chest and inhale his rich scent. “But, fuck, I feel like I need to just … I don’t know … hold your fucking hand or something.”
“Baby…”
“Does it make me less of your boyfriend if I’m scared to?”
Shit, there it is.
The truth bomb I wasn’t prepared to let out.
And now that it’s out there, I’m terrified that he’ll think less of me. Or he’ll want something I can’t give.
Can I give him affection in public?
Would it risk his life?
I hug him harder.
“Jordan, look at me.”
My heart is in my throat, and I shake my head.
“I don’t want you to see me freaking out.”
“Are you freaking out about being with me?”
I shake my head. “No … yes …fuck, a little?”
“Jordan?”
It’s not much more than a cracked whisper, but it’s enough to have me rearing back.
Regret slaps me when the broken look on his face registers.
“Shit, this is coming out all wrong.”
“I’d say,” he mutters and it’s thick.
Raw.
Busted up and allowing old wounds to surface.
