Page 32 of Kai
"Are you finished?" he asked quietly.
"Yes. No." She bit her lip and ran a shaky hand over her disheveled hair. She had forgotten to go to the salon again. "You cannot introduce me to your family, because they would never approve of me." That's another thing that had been burning her insides. "I am not Japanese American. There has never been a black person in your long line of prestigious ancestors. Never--not once."
"It used to hurt so much that you got to meet my parents, and I never could be introduced to yours." She blew out a breath. "But it doesn't matter now. I'm over it."
He moved then and crossed to hunker down in front of her. He had hurt her even more than he imagined and it wasn't fair to ask her for another chance. But he needed it. Over the past week he had concluded that he could not spend his life without her in it.
Taking her hands in his, he spread her fingers out, admiring their elegance. Lifting her left hand, he brought it to his lips, eyes meeting hers.
"I'm trying to decide what to address first." His deep voice was quiet, eyes eloquent. "I hurt you and that's a fact, one that I cannot change. I have explained the reasons why I did." He shook his head. "I cannot go back and change what was. I am me. Yes, I have a presence, but that's business and I happen to be very good at it. It does not take away from the fact that I'm in love with you."
He watched as her eyes flared and widened. "Yes," a smile curved his lips. "I love you, Maxie. I think I always did. AndI know that I always will. I left you, dammit, and that's--" He shook his head. "It will always weigh on me that I did."
Her breath caught in her throat as his words washed over her. She wanted to hold onto her anger, the shield that kept him at bay, but it was splintering under the weight of his confession. "You love me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
He nodded, his grip firm as though anchoring her to the moment. "I love you enough to face every storm your words just conjured. Enough to stand against the whispers that will undoubtedly follow us. Enough to prove, every day, that you are not some fleeting part of my life but the center of it."
Her defenses wavered as the sincerity in his eyes made her heart ache. "It's not that simple," she murmured, pulling her hands away gently. She needed distance to think, to breathe. "How do I know this isn't just guilt? Or some passing whim?"
He rose, towering over her but somehow making her feel safe instead of trapped. "Maxie, the only thing I regret is the time I lost with you. Guilt doesn't make a man fly across continents toask for one more chance. Tell me you don't feel it too, and I'll leave. I'll respect your wishes, but I'll never stop loving you."
Her lips parted, but no words came. She had spent so much time convincing herself that she had healed, that she had moved past him and his absence. But here he was, upending everything she thought she knew about herself. A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
"I don't know if I can trust you again," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But I can't deny that you're still in my heart, no matter how much I've tried to push you out."
He sank beside her on the sofa, neither speaking nor pressing. Instead, he simply sat close enough that their shoulders touched. She felt his warmth seep into her, a reminder of every moment they'd once shared. It was as if the world had paused, waiting for her decision.
Maxie closed her eyes, her mind racing. She wanted him to fight for her, to shatter every doubt she had. But deep down, she knew the real battle wasn't his to win--it was hers. Could she let him in again?
Suddenly she couldn't bear not being close to him. Turning, she crawled into his arms and buried her face in his chest, breathing him in, his spicy cologne a balm to her tattered soul.
His arms banded around her, gathering her against him. He inhaled her scent and felt himself settling.
"Tell me again," she whispered.
"I love you." Shifting, he tilted her chin up, eyes sober as they took in the moisture of the tears on her cheeks. Bending, he used his tongue to capture a drop that rolled down her left cheek. His lips trailed down the side of her face and lingered at the seam of her lips. She opened for him, like a flower bud opening for the first glint of sunlight. His lips were gentle, barely pressing on hers. He was holding back, needing to savor the moment.
He wanted to taste her, let the essence of her settle on his tongue. One hand came up to tug the elastic band from her hair. Tossing it aside, he slid his fingers through the strands before crushing the silk of it in his hands. He angled her head up, his mouth moving down to feast on her neck. Her skin was petal soft and fragranced from her bath. He sipped at her, taking little bites from her skin, all the while holding back, keeping a firmgrip on his control. He had been rough before, hurried, craving her--the hunger grabbing him by the throat.
This time, he wanted to show her passion and seduction. He wanted the moment to last, to linger as he explored her body.
"Let me have you," he whispered, breath mingling with hers. "Now, let me have you."
Their breaths mingled, forming an almost tangible connection between them, as if oxygen itself conspired to draw them closer. She felt his fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns against her back, each touch an unspoken apology, a promise, a plea. Maxie shivered, not from cold but from the surging warmth that his presence ignited deep within her.
Her hands slid tentatively against his chest, her fingers splayed as if trying to memorize the contours of his existence. "I'm afraid I'll lose myself again," she murmured, her voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of her confession.
He cupped her face, the pad of his thumb sweeping against her jawline, his gaze fierce yet tender. "If it's the price of being with you, Maxie, I'd give you every piece of me to hold onto." His words were raw, stripped of bravado, a sincerity that cut through her doubts like sunlight through a storm-clouded sky.
This time, when she kissed him, it was a kiss of reclamation--not just of him, but of herself. It was slow, deliberate, and full of the ache of what they had lost and what they could still find together. And as the world dissolved around them, there was no past, no future--only the infinite now, where love was not a question but an answer.
With their mouths still fused together, he rose, his arms wrapped securely around her. He wanted her on a bed. He needed the space for what he had in mind. His steps sure, he left the room and headed up the stairs, his mouth devouring hers. He could feel her curves pressing against him and the familiar moment of madness beating a path through his body.
Kicking the door open, he took her into the room and laid her down.
When she started to take off her clothes, he stopped her.
"Let me." His voice was hoarse with emotion, his hands trembling from it. They would talk, of course. But for now, he wanted to show her that he was here, that he loved her, that there was nothing more important than what they shared. She had not said the words to him, but he knew. Right now was not the time to demand a declaration. It was his responsibility to make things right.
