More Than Him
Page 33
His hand went to my thighs, bringing my legs up and around his waist while he pinned me to the wall. I didn't stop him. I didn't mind. Not at all. The need in my body caused a buzzing in my brain.
He cupped a breast with one hand and my ass with the other. A deep guttural moan escaped him, right before his mouth met mine again. These kisses, they were different. They weren't fueled by lust. They weren't demanding. It was passionate, but slow. So slow. As if he were taking me in for the first time. Treasuring me.
Suddenly, he pulled his face away and cursed under his breath. I slowly dropped my legs to the floor while he took a step back and away from me.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "That's not why I asked you over. I lost control. I'm sorry." He shook out his hand.
"Hey." I cooed. "I didn't exactly try to stop you." I placed me hand on his face but he pulled away.
"I know. It's just—" He blew out a breath. "I just don't want you to think that that's all I want, you know? That's not—I mean—fuck." His eyes shifted, glaring at his shaking hand. He covered it with the other. Agony consumed his features while his chest heaved.
"Logan." I took his trembling hand between both of mine and kissed it a few times. It seemed to help when I'd done it in the past.
His breath becomes steady, and after a few seconds, his hand settled. "What's going on?"
He chewed his lip but refused to look me in the eyes, instead opting to look past me. Then he was off and walking to the kitchen.
I followed.
He pulled out two beers from the fridge, and offered me one. I declined, so he exchanged it and handed me a bottle of water. His head tilted back to take a swig, but his eyes focused on me. When he was done, he placed the bottle on the counter, but then dropped his head forward. He rubbed his palm against his jaw. "I just don't want to fuck this up." He said it so quietly, I didn't know if I’d heard right.
I stepped forward so I was right in front of him. His hand went to my waist. "What?"
His eyes lifted to my face, darting around, taking me in. "You know, the time I was gone, I never stopped thinking about you. I knew that coming home would mean maybe running into you. I swear, I hoped you'd just talk to me." He swallowed loudly, and shook his head. "I just hoped you'd talk to me, maybe get a meal once or twice. But I never thought—I mean—never in my dreams did I even want to imagine that we could be this." He pointed his finger between us. "I never thought that you'd want us again, not after what I did. And now we're here. You're here. And I don't want to fuck it up. I can't, Amanda. I can't fuck this up." His eyes started to glaze over but he wiped at them before I could grasp what was happening. "You can't let me fuck this up, Amanda. Please." He was pleading with me. Begging.
And then I felt a tear drop on my arm. It was mine. I hadn't even known I was crying. I sniffed back my emotions but he must've heard. "Don't cry," he said, wiping my cheek with his thumb. He kissed me once. "Please don't cry." He kissed me again, but didn't pull back. "I can't be the one to keep making you cry."
***
We went up to the rooftop; both of us needed some air. He sat on the outdoor sofa with his beer, and I sat on the table in front of him. "I heard you weren't supposed to drink while you were on your meds," I told him. I'd studied the shit out of Xanax, just so I knew what to expect if things ever got really bad.
He smirked, and raised an eyebrow at me. "You've been doing your research."
I nodded, trying to keep the stern look on my face. "And research showed that you shouldn't be drinking."
His smile got wider. "Yes ma'am." He offered me the beer, but I declined. He placed it on the table and then pushed it away. "You don't like beer anymore?"
I shook my head. "No, I don't drink anymore."
"What?" His eyebrows bunched. "At all?"
"Yup." I waited for the questions I knew were coming.
"Why not?"
I had to choose my words carefully. The only person who knew the reason was Alexis, and she couldn't really understand it. She hadn’t been there. "I just think that maybe, if I was more clear-headed that night, things might have ended differently."
He sat up now, leaning forward and in between my legs. He still had the same confused look on his face. "What are you talking about?" The words came out low, slow, as if he couldn't comprehend what I was saying.
I shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I think if I wasn't so buzzed I'd have had better judgment that night. Maybe it—"
"Amanda." His tone was harsh. Biting. Final.
I reared back in surprise but his arms wrapped around my legs, stopping me from going far.
He apologized instantly. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but you can't think like that. You can't blame yourself for what happened."
"Why?" I lifted my chin, ready for a fight. "You did."
His eyes widened slightly, probably at my direct approach. We locked eyes for what seemed like forever, until he sighed, and his features relaxed. "Baby," he said quietly, causing my defenses to back off. He pulled me down off the table and onto his lap, straddling him, the way he always wanted me. Removing my hair away from my face, he kissed my nose once. "I want to talk about this stuff, I really do. But not now. Now, I just want to be with you. I just want to hold you. I just want us. Together. Can we just do that? Tomorrow I'll give you all the answers. I'll give you everything." He started playing with my hair, but paused mid-stroke, only for a second, before continuing. He remained silent, but I could sense something wasn't right. "What are you thinking?" I asked him.
"You can't even see me. How do you know I'm thinking?" he replied.
"I don't need to see you to feel you."
He kissed the side of my head, but waited a while to speak. "What did Ethan say when you told him you were here?"
I tensed.
He felt it. "You lied?"
I pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. Biting my lip, I nodded, once.
He shook his head. "I don't like that."
"I know," I whined. "But what do you want me to do? Don't you think it's better that we just have some time together, at least? I mean, how do I know you're not just going to lea—" My words died in the air when I saw the heartbreak on his face.
"I won't," he whispered. I could tell he was disappointed. With me—or himself—I wasn't sure. "Do you want me to talk to him?" he asked, his voice louder.
I shook my head frantically. "No. Not yet, okay?" I tried to calm the thumping against my chest. The knot in my stomach rose to my throat. I tried to clear it. "Look," I started, "you don't want to talk about what happened that night, I don't want to tell Ethan. You have your reasons. I have mine. Let's just agree to leave it alone for now, okay?"
He held me tighter. "We got a lot of shit to work through."
"Yeah," I agreed. "But once we do, we're going to be amazing." I felt his smile against my face.
He cupped a breast with one hand and my ass with the other. A deep guttural moan escaped him, right before his mouth met mine again. These kisses, they were different. They weren't fueled by lust. They weren't demanding. It was passionate, but slow. So slow. As if he were taking me in for the first time. Treasuring me.
Suddenly, he pulled his face away and cursed under his breath. I slowly dropped my legs to the floor while he took a step back and away from me.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "That's not why I asked you over. I lost control. I'm sorry." He shook out his hand.
"Hey." I cooed. "I didn't exactly try to stop you." I placed me hand on his face but he pulled away.
"I know. It's just—" He blew out a breath. "I just don't want you to think that that's all I want, you know? That's not—I mean—fuck." His eyes shifted, glaring at his shaking hand. He covered it with the other. Agony consumed his features while his chest heaved.
"Logan." I took his trembling hand between both of mine and kissed it a few times. It seemed to help when I'd done it in the past.
His breath becomes steady, and after a few seconds, his hand settled. "What's going on?"
He chewed his lip but refused to look me in the eyes, instead opting to look past me. Then he was off and walking to the kitchen.
I followed.
He pulled out two beers from the fridge, and offered me one. I declined, so he exchanged it and handed me a bottle of water. His head tilted back to take a swig, but his eyes focused on me. When he was done, he placed the bottle on the counter, but then dropped his head forward. He rubbed his palm against his jaw. "I just don't want to fuck this up." He said it so quietly, I didn't know if I’d heard right.
I stepped forward so I was right in front of him. His hand went to my waist. "What?"
His eyes lifted to my face, darting around, taking me in. "You know, the time I was gone, I never stopped thinking about you. I knew that coming home would mean maybe running into you. I swear, I hoped you'd just talk to me." He swallowed loudly, and shook his head. "I just hoped you'd talk to me, maybe get a meal once or twice. But I never thought—I mean—never in my dreams did I even want to imagine that we could be this." He pointed his finger between us. "I never thought that you'd want us again, not after what I did. And now we're here. You're here. And I don't want to fuck it up. I can't, Amanda. I can't fuck this up." His eyes started to glaze over but he wiped at them before I could grasp what was happening. "You can't let me fuck this up, Amanda. Please." He was pleading with me. Begging.
And then I felt a tear drop on my arm. It was mine. I hadn't even known I was crying. I sniffed back my emotions but he must've heard. "Don't cry," he said, wiping my cheek with his thumb. He kissed me once. "Please don't cry." He kissed me again, but didn't pull back. "I can't be the one to keep making you cry."
***
We went up to the rooftop; both of us needed some air. He sat on the outdoor sofa with his beer, and I sat on the table in front of him. "I heard you weren't supposed to drink while you were on your meds," I told him. I'd studied the shit out of Xanax, just so I knew what to expect if things ever got really bad.
He smirked, and raised an eyebrow at me. "You've been doing your research."
I nodded, trying to keep the stern look on my face. "And research showed that you shouldn't be drinking."
His smile got wider. "Yes ma'am." He offered me the beer, but I declined. He placed it on the table and then pushed it away. "You don't like beer anymore?"
I shook my head. "No, I don't drink anymore."
"What?" His eyebrows bunched. "At all?"
"Yup." I waited for the questions I knew were coming.
"Why not?"
I had to choose my words carefully. The only person who knew the reason was Alexis, and she couldn't really understand it. She hadn’t been there. "I just think that maybe, if I was more clear-headed that night, things might have ended differently."
He sat up now, leaning forward and in between my legs. He still had the same confused look on his face. "What are you talking about?" The words came out low, slow, as if he couldn't comprehend what I was saying.
I shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I think if I wasn't so buzzed I'd have had better judgment that night. Maybe it—"
"Amanda." His tone was harsh. Biting. Final.
I reared back in surprise but his arms wrapped around my legs, stopping me from going far.
He apologized instantly. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but you can't think like that. You can't blame yourself for what happened."
"Why?" I lifted my chin, ready for a fight. "You did."
His eyes widened slightly, probably at my direct approach. We locked eyes for what seemed like forever, until he sighed, and his features relaxed. "Baby," he said quietly, causing my defenses to back off. He pulled me down off the table and onto his lap, straddling him, the way he always wanted me. Removing my hair away from my face, he kissed my nose once. "I want to talk about this stuff, I really do. But not now. Now, I just want to be with you. I just want to hold you. I just want us. Together. Can we just do that? Tomorrow I'll give you all the answers. I'll give you everything." He started playing with my hair, but paused mid-stroke, only for a second, before continuing. He remained silent, but I could sense something wasn't right. "What are you thinking?" I asked him.
"You can't even see me. How do you know I'm thinking?" he replied.
"I don't need to see you to feel you."
He kissed the side of my head, but waited a while to speak. "What did Ethan say when you told him you were here?"
I tensed.
He felt it. "You lied?"
I pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. Biting my lip, I nodded, once.
He shook his head. "I don't like that."
"I know," I whined. "But what do you want me to do? Don't you think it's better that we just have some time together, at least? I mean, how do I know you're not just going to lea—" My words died in the air when I saw the heartbreak on his face.
"I won't," he whispered. I could tell he was disappointed. With me—or himself—I wasn't sure. "Do you want me to talk to him?" he asked, his voice louder.
I shook my head frantically. "No. Not yet, okay?" I tried to calm the thumping against my chest. The knot in my stomach rose to my throat. I tried to clear it. "Look," I started, "you don't want to talk about what happened that night, I don't want to tell Ethan. You have your reasons. I have mine. Let's just agree to leave it alone for now, okay?"
He held me tighter. "We got a lot of shit to work through."
"Yeah," I agreed. "But once we do, we're going to be amazing." I felt his smile against my face.
