Page 102 of Don't Say You're Sorry

“I love you.”

His eyes widen, but only slightly. I’m so close that I get to watch his pupils dilate. I wish I’d waited until the sun was up so I could experience the full effect. His eyes are even more beautiful in the sunlight.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, E. I always have been. I never said it out loud because I was scared. Scared it was too much. Too risky. Too…”

“Real?” he croaks.

I nod. “I’m still scared,” I admit.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it’s only in secret?”

“Yes. I came back for this.You. I don’t care whether you’re mine out in the open or behind closed doors. I don’t care if we spend the rest of our lives hiding the way we feel about each other. I just want you. In whatever way I can have you.”

He rolls his lips, a hint of a smile there, but there’s something missing. It’s as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know if he should.

“Do you not want that?” I ask.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hide?”

“I want the same things you want. But if we’re gonna be together, I need you to promise me you won’t leave me again. Not when things get too complicated, or too hard, or too real. Not ever. I won’t go through that again, Adam. I won’t let my guard down again just to get my heart ripped out somewhere down the line. If you’re gonna leave, leave now.”

I don’t hesitate. “No. I’ll never leave you again. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” I drop a kiss on his lips. “I’m gonnabe sleeping at your house and stealing all your food when we’re sixty. You’re gonna be sick of me.”

This time when he smiles, it touches his eyes. “It’s a little late for that, sunshine.” He says it in his awful attempt at a British accent, making me laugh. He laughs with me, and my heart soars.

He reaches up near his head and rubs his thumb over my wrist. “How’s your hand?”

“It hurts,” I grumble.

“Did you punch anyone in London?”

“No, why?”

“So that’s the first time you’ve ever punched anyone,” he surmises. “Nice job. It was a good hit.”

“Thanks. I thought so too.”

He taps my hip. “Let me up. I’ll get you some ice.”

“In a minute.” I drop my chin on his chest, unwilling to let him go yet.

He settles back into the pillows, his hand in my hair.

We’re quiet for a while before I ask, “What the hell is going on with Axel and Carter?”

Easton snorts. “You should ask him.”

“Carter?” I frown.

“Axel.”

“No.” I drop my eyes to his throat. “I meant what I said. I never want to talk to him again.”

---