Page 21 of The Cheerleader

I tug at his clothes, and this time he doesn’t stop me. He pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, and I drink in the sight of him. The strong planes of his chest, the rough scars that tell stories of battles fought, both physical and emotional. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, even if he doesn’t see it.

“I need you,” I whisper, my voice shaky with desire.

“You have me,” he replies, his voice hoarse with hunger.

Every movement feels like a decision, like we’re both choosing each other over the fears that have kept us apart. There’s nothing between us now except desire and the bond that pulls us together like two halves of a whole.

I know this is only the beginning. The beginning of claiming everything we’ve been fighting for. Of letting go of the walls we’ve both built. Of becoming one.

Chapter Fifteen

Abel

I can’t breathe.

I should be feeling something else, something less than this, but all I feel is the weight of her, the weight of what we’ve just done. Her body is still pressed against mine, her scent enveloping me, her heart beating in sync with mine. It should feel like relief. It should feel like I’ve gotten what I wanted, like the fire that’s been burning inside me for months has finally been quenched.

But it’s not that simple. Nothing with her ever is.

I’m lying here in my bed where I carried her a few hours ago, naked, still tangled in the sheets, her body curled against me like she belongs there. And in a way, she does. My hand moves to her hair, tracing the soft curve of her cheek as I watch her sleep. Her breath is steady, calm, but I can feel the tension in her, just beneath the surface. She’s not as at ease as she appears. And I know it’s my fault, that I am hurting her no matter how hard I try not to.

The moment we crossed that line, I knew there was no going back. The bond between us isn’t just a physical pull anymore. It’s deeper than that. It’s more than the knot that’s forming inside me, more than the way I can smell her even when she’s not in the room.

She’s mine. I’m hers. And that is terrifying.

I thought I could keep her at arm’s length, thought I could tell myself I was protecting her from the mess I’ve made of my life. But in the end, it wasn’t about me keeping her safe. It was about me being the one to open up to her, to let her into this mess I’ve created. And now she’s here. She’s with me.

I should be pushing her away. I should be telling her to leave before it’s too late. But I don’t. I don’t want to. Besides, it’s way past the point of turning back.

I roll onto my back, closing my eyes, trying to sort through the mess in my mind. My thoughts are scattered, torn between the overwhelming sense of want and the deeper fear that I’m ruining everything. I’ve spent years keeping people at a distance and the past six months keeping her at a distance. And now, with her so close, I feel like I’m losing myself.

I hear her shift beside me, and before I can think about it, she’s moving into me again, her head resting on my chest, her body molding to mine like we’ve always fit together this way. Her hand presses against my side, and I feel the weight of her touch settle into my bones.

This is it, I think. This is what it’s like. What it’s supposed to be like. The knot in my stomach tightens again. I can feel it. The mate bond.

I don’t have a choice anymore. It’s not about what I want, or what I think I deserve. It’s about her. And for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I do deserve this. Maybe I do deserve her.

Her lips brush my chest, a soft kiss, as though she’s just checking that I’m still here. That I’m still hers.

“I never thought it would be like this,” she murmurs, her voice quiet, laced with both wonder and fear. “I thought ... I thought you’d always push me away. That you didn’t want me.”

I clench my jaw, my fingers digging into the sheets. I can’t let her see how much her words affect me. I can’t let her see how much it kills me to think she might ever doubt my feelings for her.

“I’m sorry you ever thought I didn’t want you,” I say, my voice low, rough from the emotions I’ve been holding back. “You’re everything, and I have wanted you since I laid eyes on you. How could I not?”

Her hand slides up my chest, and she lifts her head to meet my gaze. Her eyes are so clear, so open. She doesn’t hide anything from me. She never has. And that’s what I’m afraid of.

I’ve spent my whole life hiding from people. Hiding from myself. But with her, there’s nowhere to run. I can’t hide. Not from her. Not from the bond or the things she makes me feel.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says softly, her fingers tracing the outline of my jaw. “I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

The words feel like a promise, and they cut deeper than I expect.

“I don’t know if I’m good for you, Juliet,” I confess, my throat tight. “I’ve done too much. I’ve hurt too many people. I’m not the man you think I am. But I want to be.”

She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t flinch or look at me like I’m some kind of monster.

“I know who you are,” she whispers, her voice steady. “I may not know what you’ve been through. But I don’t care. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters. Nothing will ever change that.”

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