Page 99 of The Opposite of Romance
“What do you mean? All of them.”
Her mouth parts before she recovers. “That’s over twenty books. And you’ve only known me for a few months.”
That makes me let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, well, you underestimate my obsession with you.”
She drops her gaze. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
I lift her chin with my fingers, not allowing her to escape this. “You know how I realized I’m in love with you?”Shit, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now. She shakes, visibly, like what I’m saying couldn’t possibly be true, so I continue, “Reading one of your books.” I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. “The man wasproclaiming his love to the woman, with this dramatic, over-the-top speech.” She slaps my chest, making me huff a laugh. “Typically, I would roll my eyes at that. But it resonated with me. I reread that part a million times to figure out why. And then I realized. Those dramatic, over-the-top feelings are exactly how I feel about you.” Her eyes close for a second, like this whole thing is too much to handle. “And I get it if you’re not ready for love. But don’t tell me I’ll get bored of you.”
She swallows audibly before opening her mouth to respond, but I interrupt her, “It’s ok. I’m fine waiting for you to be ready to love me back.”
“It’s not that. I-I might already be there.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“It’s why I’m so scared. My marriage with David sucked, but I don’t think I ever mourned the loss of him. Just the loss of love I thought I had. I know it sounds horrible…”
“It doesn’t. It sounds real. And honest.”
“But you…” She fidgets with the button on my polo before lifting her eyes to mine. The gorgeous pools of silver make my breath hitch. “You could destroy me. For real.”
“I’d never do that.”
Sadness laces her smile. “I know you think so now. But you never know where life will take you.”
“So the plan is never to fall in love again? Never feel what the characters you write about are feeling? That’s not very romantic of you. Shouldn’t you live what you preach?”
“This is hardly a romance book.” She scoffs. “If anything, it’s the opposite.” She doesn’t look convinced of her words, chewing on her lip.
The corner of my mouth turns up because I can see her defiance faltering. “I don’t think the things I feel about you are the opposite of romance. Or the way my body reacts to seeing you, my heart beating out of my chest, my stomach churning with nerves…” She shoots me an inquisitive look. “Sorry, I’m not the one good with words.”
And then she giggles. An honest, happy giggle that lights up her tear-streaked face. I’m a hundred pounds lighter, seeing her laugh. When my chest fills with so much air I’m afraid I’m going to float away, I ground myself by pressing my lips to hers.
Her giggle dies out, and for a second, she’s standing still, not kissing me back. It feels like eternity, while my heart beats out of my ribcage, so when she finally kisses me back, I can’t help but groan into her mouth, slipping my hands in her hair and pulling her flush to me.
My cheeks get wet from her tears. She likely smeared mascara on my face, but I couldn’t care less. Because she’s here, in my arms. Open and giggling. Her scent envelopes me and I wish never to get out.
I don’t want out.
Out of her warmth.
Her embrace.
The touch of her soft lips moving over mine with love and desperation.
Love.
What a crazy word. I could have listened to a thousand love songs, read a hundred romance books, and never know the feeling. But when I met her, there was no chance but to get to know it. To understand it.
The kiss turns from playful to passionate with a single nip to her bottom lip. She whimpers and the sound shoots straight to my dick. I place my hands under her perfect ass before hoisting her up to wrap her ankles around my back. She sighs when our centers connect. She’s wearing a thin sundress, meaning only a flimsy layer of lace covers her pussy as it grinds on my already hard cock.
It’s been less than a week since I was last inside of her and my pants are a dripping, aching mess for her. A moan escapes her, and the dry humping becomes torture. The sensations are both too much, and far too little, so I turn us around, pressing her back to my car with more force than I planned.
“Shit,” she mumbles at the impact.
“Fuck, sorry. I’m too desperate to feel you.”
“Don’t apologize. I want you to be rough. I need to feel you wanting me.”
