Page 61 of The Sound Of Silence

“Willow,” he warns.

“I’m not asking for anything. I’m just telling you to stay.”

“That’s asking foreverything,” he rasps and then stills.

He doesn’t move for what feels like forever, but then curses loud enough to wake the neighbors before sinking back down to the seat. “Why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about you?” he asks, but I think it’s rhetorical. At least I hope it is because I don’t have an answer.

Running his fingers through his hair, he slides closer, causing my heart to come to a jolting stop. “Tell me to forget you. Tell me it’s wrong.”

My breathing shallows as my heart pounds again.It’s not wrong. So why is he still fighting it?“Tell me the truth about Pippa and then I’ll decide.”

Jesse’s brows furrow until he processes my meaning and his body sags. Shaking his head, he huffs out a loud sigh that leaves me drenched in a cold sweat.

“I’ve never even thought of Pippa romantically,” he whispers, his voice scratchy. “And the feeling’s mutual. It’s all a ruse for your sister and Jonah.”

Now it’s my turn to sag. Every part of me feels free as though his words just unlocked chains that had been choking the life out of me. But if that’s true, why is it wrong to be with me?

As if hearing my silent question, Jesse huffs, “That being said, it doesn’t change a thing.”

My body screams at me to stay silent, to just let this play out, but my head wins, and I whisper the words he doesn’t want to hear. “If it’s so wrong, why do I feel so deeply connected to you? Why does it feel like I knew you in another life? Another time.”

Jesse groans, his fist clenching by his side. “Don’t think about past lives or past anythings, Willow. If it was just now, would that change the way you feel?”

“No,” I say honestly. “I’d still tell you to stay.” Past life or not, he’s awakened something in me I never want to lose.

He slides closer, this time encroaching on my personal space, and my breath hitches as my entire body comes to life.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he whispers, his breath warming my already heated skin.

“What if I do?” I counter, even though he’s one hundred percent right. I have no clue about any of this.

Jesse curses as his hand lands on the seat beside my leg, the tip of his thumb lightly brushing my skin. I audibly suck in a breath, and thank God we’re in a hot tub so he can’t see the effect he has on me.

With his eyes squeezed shut—as though just being this close is agony—he leans in until his nose skims across my cheek, letting out a relieved sigh when he does.

His thumb brushes against me again as his lips move toward my mouth, and the slow pace is torture.

My pulse races as I quell my desire to reach for him, sensing this is something he needs to do. But when his lips come within an inch of mine, he pauses and I feel the energy shift. My heart pounds against my rib cage, threatening to break through, as goose bumps coat my warm skin.

“Fuuck.” Jesse’s eyes flash open, and he expels a sharp breath, his gaze locked on my mouth, while my own breath lodges in my throat, silently waiting for his next move.

Hesitatingly slow, his thumb slips between the space separating our mouths, and he swipes it across my lip, the roughness of his skin sending a shiver to my core. With wide eyes, he gazes up at me and stills, his expression full of uncertainty.

“I don’t like to be touched,” he whispers and the emotion packed into that statement breaks me. I try to look away, subtly giving him some space, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he growls, moving his thumb to my chin as he turns my head to face him. “Don’t pull away from me now. Not when I’m baring my soul for the first time in my life.”

My breath hitches again as my eyes bounce between his, taking in his raw vulnerability. “I—”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed someone,” he rasps, cutting me off. “The mere thought of it makes my skin crawl. It’s not something I’m proud of. But until now, I’ve never even wished that I was different. That I could handle being touched.”

My mind flashes back to when I saw Pippa grab his hand, and his reaction. But then I remember all the things she’s told me about him and his man-whoring ways. I don’t want to doubt what he’s saying but…

“You’ve had sex,” I blurt out. It’s not a question; it’s a statement. Something I know to be true.

He winces as though I’ve slapped him, but it’s valid and I stand by it.

“Emotionless sex has never been an issue as long as it’s quick and purposeful,” he grates, his eyes not meeting mine. “It’s intimacy I can’t handle.”

Raising my hand, I tentatively move toward his face, needing to touch him more than I need my next breath. A breath that’s currently trapped inside my chest as I decide what to do. My fingers come to a halt so close to his cheek that you’d struggle to slide a piece of paper between us, my chest hollowing as I finally meet his gaze.

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