Page 48 of Unspoken Words
His brow crumpled, and it pissed me off.
“Don’t do that,” I said, now frowning at him.
“Do what?”
I pointed to his face. “That. That regretful look.”
Connor gently trailed his finger down my cheek, his caress soft and sensual. “But I hurt you. I hate that I hurt you.”
“Well, get over it, because sex for the first time issupposedto hurt.”
He scoffed and diverted his gaze to the river. “Maybe I could’ve done something different, something to lessen the pain.”
“Maybe you could just stop sulking and tell me you love me too,” I suggested, or perhaps demanded. Either way, as my head lay resting on his arm, my eyes searching his, those three words were what I desperately wanted to hear, what Ineededto hear. Never in my life had I felt so vulnerable and in need of reassurance.
Connor’s lips remained pressed together, his eyes a swirling storm of remorse. I could see his turmoil deep within, and it angered and pained me even more that he couldn’t just open his stupid mouth and say what he obviously felt, what I felt, and I what I could see—his love for me, blaring in silence.
“Don’t worry about it,” I sniped, sitting up so I could reach my bikini top and run far away from the hurt now squeezing my heart. I honestly thought once we’d made love that he’d say it. There was no reason for him not to … unless he didn’t love me the way he appeared to.
“Eloise.” Connor’s hand shot out and clasped mine. “Don’t leave.”
“Please let go. I can’t stay here right now. I need air.”
He didn’t quite chuckle but waved his hand at the space around us instead. “There’s plenty of air.”
“Yeah, but you’re stealing it,” I choked out, unable to hold back my tears. “You’re always stealing my air.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You!” I said, shrugging out of his clasp so that I could point my trembling finger at him. “You breathe air into me and then you steal it, and I’m left gasping. Why do you do that? Why can’t you just let me breathe with you?”
Connor’s wide eyes searched mine, darting from side to side like a ball in a pinball machine. He looked so lost and helpless, so I elaborated. “Every second we are together, I feel alive. Every kiss, every touch, every unspoken word breathes life into me and I tether myself to it, afraid to let go. But then you refuse to tell me how you truly feel with the words you were given, words I know you can damn well say and choose not to, and it sucks that air right back out of me, and I … I can’t breathe.”
His eyelids fell shut, his shoulders sagging.
“Why’s itsohard for you to say?”
He didn’t respond. He just kept his eyes closed, as if I weren’t even there.
“JUST SAY IT,” I shouted. “Just tell me you love me. I know you do.”
“If you know I do then why do you need to hear it?”
“Because some words mean so much. Some words need to be heard and spoken.”
“Not those.”
“What? Are you crazy? Of coursethose. They’re the most important three words anyone can say.”
“No, baby, you’re wrong.” Connor opened his eyes, grasped my arms, and pulled me to sit on his lap, securing me tightly, his finger tracing a heart over my own. “My love for you goes beyond what words can say, so yeah, I choose not to say them.Thosethree words are empty where we’re concerned.”
I sobbed. “But I need to hear them.”
“You don’t,” he whispered, pressing his palm over my heart and placing my palm over his, the pressure firm, both of our hands unmoving. “Do you feel that?” A reverberating beat travelled through my body into his and from his into mine, our pressed hands a bridge, one beginning where one ended.We begin where we end.
What I’d written in my notebook before we made love hit me like a truck, and I jolted and gasped.
“What, Eloise? What’s wrong?”
