Page 106 of Heartbreaker
Brooks scoffs. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’ve been hot and cold from the second you stepped out of that curtain three weeks ago. One minute you want me to stay as far away from you as possible, and the next you’re begging me to fuck you.”
“Begging you to—”
“You want your cake and eat it too, Sav. You want to stay mad at me, but you want me in your back pocket at the same time, and I can’t—”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is!” Brooks takes a centering breath following his outburst. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry that I’ve made things worse because I thought…I thought we could try to be friends, or friendly, but the truth is, I don’t want to be your friend. I can’t. I can’t just be friends with you, Savannah. If there’s one thing I’ve learned these last few weeks, it’s that if you’re not mine, I can’t be in your life.”
His confession knocks the breath from my lungs, and without waiting for an answer, he walks away.
I want to call out to him, beg him to come back and talk to me, but I can’t get his name past my lips. Tears burn my eyes as I watch him walk away, because this time I know it’s for good, and I feel the final piece of my heart crack.
Pushing inside my room, I fall on the edge of my bed. When did my life become such a mess? A mess that I had been trying to avoid, but one that was almost certain to happen if I returned…I’d hoped to have enough willpower to stay away from him. To avoid this exact moment. If I’ve learned anything the past few weeks, it’s that I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame, ignoring the burn to fly a little closer to the sun. The truth of the matter is, John has been honest with me on more than one occasion. He’s told me how he feels—how he’s felt—but I haven’t done the same. I haven’t been honest with him because I haven’t been honest with myself. I thought I could fight these feelings that lingered, but…I can’t, and I don’t want to.
My fingers move on their own volition, dialing the number that I know will give me the one answer I don’t have. He answers, but I can barely hear him over the sounds of the party in the background. A minute later, the sounds fade into the background. “Sav, everything okay?”
“Brody, what’s his room number?”
There’s a soft chuckle from the other end of the line before he answers.
One foot in front of the other leads me down the hallway to the elevator bank and up two floors. I can’t think about what I’m doing because if I do, I might turn around. I need to do this. I have to. Counting the numbers on each door, I find the one I’m looking for. It feels like an eternity before the door swings open after I knock.
“Dude, I’m not in the mood—” His words falter when his eyes meet mine.What is she doing here? I can practically hear the words just from the look in his eye.
He obviously thought it was Brody, or maybe Wolf. I know they’ve been texting him since we left the party. I could hear his phone buzz every few seconds on our way back to the hotel, but he ignored it, almost like he didn’t notice the messages flooding his screen. Too lost in his thoughts.
He crosses his arms, guarding the doorway. “Savannah, what are you doing here?”
“What if I don’t want to be friends?”
His gaze narrows. “What do you want to be?”
“Your last.” I step closer. “Your last first kiss, last first date, last time waking up next to someone new, the last hand you reach for in the dark, and the person you tell all of your secrets to and not worry if it’s too heavy. I want to be the last woman you come home to and your last I love you…Because I do, John.” Tears cloud my vision as I let the words flow freely. I had no idea what I was going to say when he opened the door. I had no plan other than to knock and hope he answered. “I love you, and I’m sorry that I let my fear of the future and the unknown get in the way of this…Us. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain, not really. I had already made my mind up, and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry I ran, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned the last few weeks, it’s that I can’t be friends with you, either. Not if it means I can’t love you.”
John stands there a moment longer than I hoped before he stoops down to claim my mouth in a hard kiss. He kisses me like an answered prayer. An all-consuming, mind-erasing kiss that will be imprinted in the depths of my brain for the rest of my life. Fire spreads throughout my system, overtaking all thoughts I had moments before. The only thing that matters right now is the way his body feels pressed against mine, the way his mouth feels on mine, and the desperate ache growing in my chest to be one with him.
A soft whimper spills from my parted lips when he pulls away, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. His thumb swipes across my cheek, discarding the tear I hadn’t even noticed trailing from my eye.
“It’s always been you, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “It will always be you. And as long as you’ll have me, I’ll choose you every day for the rest of my life.”
With a crooked finger, he tilts my chin up and pulls me forward into a kiss much softer than before. I melt into him as he kisses me again and again, until gentle kisses turn needy and hungry.
John tugs me by the hand over the threshold of his room, letting the door close behind us, not a care in the world that its slam echoes down the hall. My hands grip the front of his shirt, making busy work of the buttons, and I shove it off his shoulders. The fabric catches on his biceps, but he slips his arms free, and it falls to his feet in a white heap. The pad of his thumb skates across my bottom lip, and the corners of his mouth tug upward. “I love you, Savannah Josefine Williams.”
I don’t answer with words; instead, closing the gap between us again, tasting the hint of red wine on his tongue from the single glass he had at the party. I take my time, letting my fingers slide up his bare chest, re-memorizing every crevice, every ridge, every mark that makes him…him. That’s when I notice the new scar on his shoulder. The one from his surgery in March, after I left. My fingers ghost over the discolored line, but he gathers them in his hand, bringing them to his lips.
“I’m okay,” he whispers.
“I called,” I say. “Ari. I called Ari. When it happened.”
“I know.” John smiles. “She told me.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there. I should’ve—”
He cuts me off with a kiss. “I love you.”
One of his hands braces the wall. The other tangles in my hair to tilt my head back, angling my neck to give him full access to my throat. His mouth moves from my mouth to my jaw, down the column of my throat, and sucks the skin at my collarbone between his teeth. His tongue laps over the bite before his teeth find the skin again, repeating until I’m sure the skin becomes discolored. I should push him away, tell him to stop, or Anna from the makeup department will have my head tomorrow, but the feeling is too good.
