Page 87 of Well, Actually
“Stop it,” I demand, fingers knotting in the fabric of his sweatshirt. I can’t tell if I want to push him away or pull him closer.
“No.” His voice is a growl. “I love you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, so you might as well accept it.”
“I refuse.” Tears slip down my cheeks. I’m horrified to realize my hands have landed on his hips.
Rylie’s laugh is a soft puff against my cheek, electrifying and soothing all at once. “I don’t care.”
He brushes his lips against mine in the gentlest of caresses, and sweetness floods through me. Nonsensical protests tumble from my lips, but he silences them with a firmer kiss, and I open to him, my body trembling as he anchors himself to me, steadying me.
“I love you,” he says again.
“You shouldn’t.”
Rylie pulls back to look at me, and I’m mortified at the way I cling to him. And then I realize that he’s still holding me too, just as tightly, one hand pressed against the curve of my spine, the other stroking away the tears from my cheek.
“You are the sharpest, fiercest person I know. I have never been more off-kilter than when you let me into your life. I can’t even begin to predict what godless thing you’ll say or do next, and I have a very healthy fear of your bad side. And, fuck, I love you. I want to spend every day listening to you be an absolute shithead to me. If at the end of my life someone asked me what I’d do with one more hour, one more minute, I would fight with you. Argue with you. Kiss you and hug you and hold you. Anything for one more second with you. I’d choose this every single time. Because I know you love me too.”
I suck in a stuttering breath through my sobs, resting my head against his chest. Rylie tucks me to him, swaying us gently.
“I’m scared to love you,” I choke. “I’m scared to feel this much and risk losing you. Risk you realizing I’m not worth it.”
“Eva, my love. I’ve had six years to let you go and decide you’re not worth it. Give me six hundred more and it stillwouldn’t matter. I’m yours. It’s okay to be afraid. I’ll be brave for us both until you learn to trust it. Trust me.” He places a kiss to my temple. “Let me prove it to you.” Another on the tip of my sniffling nose. “Let me take care of you.” A hot, gentle brush across my lips. “Let me love you.”
I’m wrung out from emotions, every cell depleted. But slowly, like a gentle mist swirling through my veins, a new sensation fills me. It’s luminous and warm and creates a weightless sensation in my chest. It takes me a moment to realize it’s hope.
With a shaky sigh, I seek out Rylie’s lips, kissing him, tasting him, luxuriating in the electric spark created with each new press of my mouth to his. A soft hum vibrates low in his throat, and he moves us until our bodies are flush, my back to the wall. With reluctance, I break the kiss, both of us breathing hard.
“While it goes against my nature to give you what you want,” I whisper, “your insistence has worn me down.”
I feel Rylie’s smile against my own, his hands threading through my hair. His rough laugh is equal parts relief and amusement. “I feel like the crewnecks also helped me win you over a bit.”
I laugh, then start to cry again. This time in release, deep waves of comfort rippling through my muscles as I hold him tighter. “You never left me any choice but to fall in love with you, huh?”
Rylie nods, forehead brushing mine, and he catches my mouth in a tender kiss.
“I love you so much,” I murmur against his skin as his lips create a hot trail along my throat and collarbone. “I haveno idea how to do this, but I’m going to try with everything I have.”
He retraces his path up, his glasses askew and our noses clashing as we dive in for more. It’s such a luxury to love him like this, slow and unhurried, like we have nothing but time.
His words are a promise against my skin: “And that will always be enough.”
Chapter 24
“What do I do now?” I ask the next morning, snuggled in bed with Rylie. I play idly with the hairs on his chest, and it isn’t until he gently flattens my palm against his heartbeat that I realize I was starting to pluck at them in my anxiety.
“With work?” he murmurs, tucking me closer into his side and placing a soft kiss to my hair.
“Work. My identity. My livelihood… The simple stuff that people rarely stress about.”
“I don’t know that your work being tied to your identity is a super-healthy thing.”
“Okay. Sure. But you also can’t even raw-dog vision so I’m not particularly eager to take life advice from you.”
Rylie lets out an indulgent chuckle, the vibrations caressing my cheek. “If journalism doesn’t work out, maybe give life coaching a try. You’re so gentle and uplifting.”
I smile, pressing a kiss to his pec before lightly biting the spot.
“You could do freelance for a while,” Rylie offers after a few moments. He traces random patterns along my arm, lulling me into a happy drowsiness where I actually consider the idea. “You’ve even said yourself that your Babble account has been getting more attention. Maybe figure out how to monetize it or use popular pieces as pitches for different outlets?”
