Page 111 of The Love Destroyers

My heart beats fast and hard, trying to tell me something, but the message isn’t coming through, and all I know to do is tell the truth.

“I did too,” I admit. “But I told myself you wouldn’t mind much. I know sex probably isn’t a big deal to you.”

“It was with you,” he says. “I haven’t touched another woman since I met you.”

Surprise chokes any words I might have had for him. Finally, I recover enough to say, “But you’re such a flirt, and Rosie said—”

“I haven’t lived as a saint. I didn’t even realize it was because of you until recently. I thought I was depressed again, but now…after last night…I realized I was holding out because you’re the one I wanted.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else either. I…I’ve been thinking about you for a while. That’s what made me leave last night. I think I’m pretty messed up when it comes to this stuff.”

His thumb brushes over my lip again, the way it did the other night. “That makes two of us. I don’t know what this means, or how it could work. God knows it would probably end in flames, but I don’t care anymore. I want you. Ineedyou, and I can’t wait four years to have you again. I can’t think of anything but you, Emma. It’s impossibly fucking annoying. And yes, I wanted to kill that son-of-a-bitch for hurting you. I still do. And I’m worried that I’m done being useful to you, because Nicole knows better than to let me anywhere near him after what happened earlier.”

My lips part in shock. No man has ever spoken to me like this. No man has ever made me feel like this, like I might actually want to take off my stony skin and reveal my vulnerable insides.

His thumb is still on my lip, and I capture it in my mouth, sucking. His eyes widen, and one of his big hands wraps around my waist, making my body light up with remembrance of last night. Of every time our bodies have been close or touching. My mind has kept returning to them over the past couple of months, like a broken record, and it’s only now that I’m willing to admit to myself how much he’s made his mark on me. I pull back, and his fingers weave into my hair, lifting my face up to him again.

“I can’t think about anything but you either,” I admit. “Come lie down with me. You’re not yourself.”

His laughter is a harsh sound, and it occurs to me that he has different laughs, too. This one is no mark of good humor.

“This is me being myself, Em.”

“Getting drunk while you’re on pain medication and building a rabbit hutch out of trash?”

His hand squeezes my waist. “Don’t you put down Chuck’s carefully curated belongings.” But the humor leaves his voice, and he adds, “This is me, being self-destructive. Because that’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done.”

“No, it’s what youdid,” I say firmly. “What you’re going to do right now is go to bed, drink lots of water, and sleep it off.” Then I get up on my toes and break my rule, our rule, and kiss him. A soft kiss, because he’s not in his right head, and part of me is afraid he’ll regret all of this when he wakes up sober. But he opens his mouth to me and pulls me closer, making a humming noise as if he’s so deeply satisfied to have his lips on me again he has to make his relief audible. I open to him too, feeling that same relief. The kiss deepens as he tugs me closer by my waist, his other hand weaving up into my hair and pulling it slightly ashe uses it to press me closer into him. So close that he jars his rib again.

I pull back when he flinches. “Not right now,” I say. “I want you to sleep it off.”

He leans his chin on my head and sighs deeply. “Your hair always smells good. Did you know your hair always smells good?”

“You’re very drunk.”

“You’re very bossy.”

“You seem to like it.”

“Only from you,” he says, his lips forming one of his endearing smiles.

When I start leading him toward the bedroom, he comes with me—and he doesn’t fight me when I help him lower onto the mattress. The pained look on his face says his rib is still bothering him, so I help him settle back onto the propped pillows.

He looks at me as I rise. “I’m only going to stay in this bed if you promise you won’t leave.”

“I’m staying.” I lean down to kiss him again, because I need to. Because, if he changes his mind, I want one more. He kisses me back softly, then rests his cheek against mine.

I get him a large glass of water from the other room. I consider putting Carrot back into his cage, but when I call the rabbit’s name, he heads in the other direction. My rabbit charmer is in bed, so I settle for texting Chuck to explain the situation and suggest he stay clear of the apartment for a few more hours. Then I climb into bed beside Seamus.

His eyes are barely open when I get back, but I tell him to drink the water and he complies, his gaze amused. He settles back, pulling me close to his side, cradling me to the un-injured part of his chest. His hand slips beneath the back of my shirt, hisfingers moving over me as if he needs to prove it to himself that I’m really here.

I feel emotionally congested, because I didn’t think that a relationship could be like this. That being vulnerable with someone could lead to anything other than regret.

At the same time, I’m aware that his secret sits between us.

I don’t know what he did, but I know it was bad enough that it sent him running when Nicole came at him with her PI superpowers and a metaphorical shovel.

I’ve thought about what it can be, and the alternatives are all bad. Dangerous. Yet I’ve never felt anything but safe with him.

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