Page 38 of Make Me Love You

His heart sank into his shoes. If she had been drinking, that would change what happened here tonight. He put one beer back in the fridge and used the counter to pop the cap off the other. “Are you drunk?”

Her face did something odd, twisting into a sympathetic grimace. “No. You know I wouldn’t drive drunk, Eli. Especially not after what happened with your dad. I had one beer, hoping it would make me relax. It didn’t.”

Relief turned his knees wobbly. He leaned against the counter, hoping he somehow managed to look sexy and not like a Victorian lady in need of a fainting couch.

He took a slow pull of his beer. “So here you are. Because you can’t sleep. And...you want me to sing you a lullaby?”

The look she gave him was so livid with lust that it would have been funny if it hadn’t felt like she kicked him in the heart. The lust he understood, and the anger...well, he supposed he understood that, too. She wanted him. She didn’t want to want him, and she sure as hell didn’t want to admit to any of it.

But that was too bad, because he was going to make her say it anyway. She could do with a little personal responsibility for her actions. He wasn’t going to allow her to treat tonight like it was just another thing that happened to her, as though she had no role in how it all played out. Once he had done that for her, shouldering the responsibility for something he knew would be unbearable for her to face, but this was different. She could bear it just fine, even if it stung her pride a little.

If she wanted this, she was going to have to put on her big girl shoes and damn well use her words.

“You know what I want,” she said.

He cocked his head to the side and studied her. “I’m not sure I do, to be honest. Why don’t you tell me?”

She made a short, frustrated sound. “You won’t make this easy on me, will you.”

“No.”

She took one stride toward him, then abruptly reversed course. She ping-ponged back and forth a few times while he watched, half-amused, half-terrified that she would change her mind. Finally, she stopped, facing him. She was breathing hard, and he doubted it was from physical exertion.

“This has to stop. I can’t...I can’t live like this. I can’t spend my nights staring at the ceiling. I can’t walk around all day, like...like...”

“Like what?” His voice was hoarse, shaken. “You have to say it, honey.”

She closed her eyes, her throat moving as she swallowed hard. “Like I will die if you don’t touch me. Like I’m going to catch fire at any moment and you’re the only thing that can put me out.”

Her eyes opened, burning straight into his. Two steps and she was in his arms. She dragged her fingertips down the rough stubble of his cheeks, along his jaw, and swept her thumb across his lower lip.

“I need you to make it stop, Eli. I need to fuck you out of my system.”

He understood. For tonight only. To get it out of their systems once and for all. It wasn’t like he was thinking wedding bells and picket fences. He knew forever wasn’t on the table. That was fine. Really. Forever didn’t exist anyway, in his experience. There was no reason to believe this time would be any different, just because it was Emma.

“I think I can do that,” he said.

He lowered his head, but she put a hand to his chest to hold him back.

“This doesn’t mean...” Her eyebrows pushed together in a frown. “I hate you, Eli. This won’t change that. Does that matter?”

She was giving him an out. Did he want to take it? For a moment he asked himself, quite seriously, if maybe it did matter. If maybe this feeling like someone had stabbed him in the gut with a red-hot poker was a sign that he was in over his head...and in over his heart.

The answer was no, it didn’t matter. At least, not enough. Nothing mattered enough to stop this from happening. Besides, he had heard I love you before. It was generally followed by leaving. It was the last thing his mom had said to him, and it hadn’t made one bit of difference in what happened next. So why couldn’t I hate you be followed by sex? It felt right, in the twisted recesses of his heart. It felt like something he could live with.

As opposed to walking away from Emma, which was something he didn’t think he could bear. It was unreasonable to even suggest it, now, with her soft skin under his fingers and her scent filling his lungs. He couldn’t say no to this. He didn’t even want to, no matter how much it broke him.

“I don’t care,” he said, which wasn’t a lie so much as it wasn’t the truth.

She pulled his face toward hers and claimed his mouth. Like every kiss they had shared before, it wasn’t gentle. He kissed her hard and deep, knowing that tonight was the last time. Come tomorrow, there would be no more kisses.

But he wasn’t going to think about that right now, because right now Emma was in his arms and that made it hard to even consider future regrets. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste his only time with her backed up against a kitchen counter. Kitchen counters were for lovers who had all the time in the world, for slow, lazy mornings of kissing and sex intermingling with pancakes and coffee. Kitchen counters weren’t for them. No, they needed a bed, where he could spread her out and make a feast of her.

He cupped her butt with both hands and boosted her up. She wrapped her long legs around his waist. Somehow he navigated them down the hallway to his bedroom, his lips never once leaving hers.

He carefully laid her down on the bed and tried to unwind himself from her limbs, but she clung to him, keeping him close. The unconscious vulnerability of it made his chest squeeze tight. But he wanted—no, needed—her naked, and that wasn’t going to happen if she didn’t let go of him for at least a moment.

“Clothes off,” he said.

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