Page 33 of One Night Only

He simply stares at me. Again, I’m reminded of being that recalcitrant child playing a game with the adult, a game she knows she will lose.

Sudden panic chokes my breath.

Am I going to lose? What though?

This is over tomorrow morning, isn’t it?

One night only, Ani.

“You’re not a rebound. If anything, I might need a rebound after this night. To get over you.”

Fuck, I did not mean to say that. Curse me and my stupid, impulsive tongue. Either it’s spewing lies to make me look better or telling too much truth. Apparently, I can’t even pretend to be neurotypical for one night.

“See? That wasn’t hard, was it?”

“Wasn’t hard? I nearly died,” I say, laughing to cover up my big admission. “One would think you would recognize my condition.”

I expect his deep laughter to embrace me, to help me move on. It doesn’t come.

“What are you so afraid of, about this?” There’s a thread of anger in his tone, all coiled up with frustration. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard it.

I stiffen. Open my mouth and close it like a floundering fish.

“No flippant comments or wisecracks,” he says, features stark with intent.

His arrogant demand should get my back up, and it should make me want to turn away. It doesn’t. The little fracture in his smooth facade only tells me how serious he is.

“I’m afraid that you, this night with you, is making me want things that are impossible for me. I’m afraid that a few hours with you have fundamentally changed how I see myself. I’m afraid that I might fall in love with you if I don’t stop myself.” My breaths are shallow pants, my chest so tight that it’s a miracle I get those words out. I feel as if my skin is too small, too tight to contain me. “And where does that leave me?”

“Ani—”

“Please, I gave you my answer. Even without a bloody card. Can we sleep now?”

He strokes me from neck to hip, as if to soothe me, and his kiss when he finds my mouth is reverent. I have no other word for it. He licks and sips, without pushing or probing. “Good night, sweetheart. For what it’s worth,” he whispers this into my hair, as if he knows that I’m not ready for it, “you have changed me too.”

But I hear it and hold it close to my chest.

We’re both awake for a while, but the silence that cloaks us has its own language. I shift a few times, trying to get comfortable, and Dr. Cross patiently moves his arms and legs until I settle down again.

Twin urges to stay and to run away overwhelm me. The first wins out, and I stretch myself, hoping to reach every inch of him with my body.

His eyes are closed, and his breath is steady. I lick the neat divot in his chin and then find his lips in the darkness. My entire body hums with awareness. “You are the love I didn’t know I could have, Dr. Cross,” I whisper against his lips, needing to say the words. “With you, I’m complete.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ethan

The sudden stirringof warm limbs wrapped around me pulls me from sleep. For just a second, I don’t know where I am. Then, the warmth cocooning me, the scent of vanilla and rain sinks in. A phone rings somewhere in the suite, and Ani’s crawling out of bed.

My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the dim light spilling in from the French doors. The storm has quieted, but rain still drenches the city, and water streaking the glass fractures the glow of streetlights. The air in the suite is warm, the residual heat from our tangled bodies lulling me into stillness. But my mind runs away like a freight train, churning thoughts, feelings, and impressions. If I thought I would wake up and feel differently, that theory is dashed.

A slow smile spreads my lips, that little flame in my chest as alive and burning as it was a few hours ago. Even in sleep, Annika fit against me like we were meant to be together, her body molding to mine, her breath a quiet rhythm against my skin.

The rumpled sheets still hold the shape of her body, carrying the faintest trace of her warmth. It’s so strange to miss something you’ve only had for a few hours, but I do.

With Annika, everything—every kiss, every touch, even falling asleep in each other’s arms—is new, and yet, there’s also a strange ease to it. As if we’ve performed these exact rituals before. As if our bodies know how to communicate even before our minds can catch up to this new reality.

I push up on the bed.

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