Page 57 of Ripple Effect

I look over at him then, his face a picture of quiet understanding. “You didn’t drag me,” he says. “I wanted to be here for you.”

“Well, thank you. I’m really glad you came after all.” I lean my head against his shoulder, and his hand moves to stroke my hair. “What did you say to get him to leave?”

“I just told him the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re the best thing in my life right now. That he’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks any of that bullshit is true. That I would ... That I’d be lucky if you’d even so much as let me get on my knees in front of you.”

I lift my head from his shoulder. “El ...”

“I’m serious, Daisy. Anyone would be lucky to have you, and that includes me.” He shifts on the bed, gaze meeting mine. His hand moves to cup my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek—softly, slowly. “Are you okay?”

I manage a small smile, leaning into his touch. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Or I will be.”

“I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry he came here.”

“It’s okay. You lean on me, I lean on you?”

“Yeah, Daisy girl,” he says softly. “That’s the deal.”

As I stare up at him, I get lost in the dark depths of his eyes, and the world slows down. We’re close now, so close that I can feel his warm breath fan across my face. My heart throbs in my chest, my mind a flurry of emotions.

It’s hard enough to think. All I know is that when I’m alone with him, I feel safe, calm, protected. Wanted, more than I ever have before.

And so, I lean in.

Our lips meet, and a million tiny sparks flutter around my head, like a beautiful, silent light show. The sensation is intense, all-consuming. It’s a sweet kind of chaos, a perfect little whirlwind.

But then, he pulls back.

Gently, he grips my upper arms, his hands warm through the fabric of my shirt. His voice is low and deep, filled with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. “Fuck.”

And just like that, my heart sinks. A hot blush creeps up my neck, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I lower my gaze to my lap, blinking back the tears. “Sorry,” I mumble, my voice hushed.

“Hey,” he says gruffly. “Don’t be sorry.”

I feel his gaze on me, burning, but I can’t bring myself to meet it. “I just—I thought you said ...”

“I know what I said,” he interrupts, and the intensity in his voice makes me look back up at him. His eyes are soft, full of conflict. “And I meant every word. But Daisy, is this really the best time to start something between us? You’re in such a vulnerable spot right now, and so am I.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “So, you don’t want me to kiss you?”

“No,” he groans, raking a hand through his hair. “I want you to fucking kiss me. That’s not the problem.”

“Then let me kiss you,” I press, the words coming out as a soft plea.

“Daisy ...”

“I promise to stop when your heart starts racing.”

“Ship has sailed. It’s already beating out of my fucking chest.”

I deflate at his words, disappointment sinking in my stomach. “Oh,” I mumble, dropping my gaze back to my lap. “Okay, then you’re right. We shouldn’t start this now. We’ll table it?”

He sighs, but there’s a hint of relief in his eyes. “Yeah, we’ll table it. It’s a rain check until I get this shit cleared up, until you’re not reeling from the confrontation you just had with your ex.”

“Okay.”

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