Page 102 of Come to Me
"You've barely talked to me since the last time I was here." It's not an accusation, just a simple statement of facts.
I sink my teeth into my lip. My legs are so shaky. I have to squeeze him tighter just to stand. "But that's not like you."
He brushes his lips against my cheek. "I'm sorry."
My heart races. There's nothing I can say. Nothing that can make it easier to admit I nearly gave up on us.
"You should push the button eventually."
"But the second I let you go, you're going to move away from me. Probably for a while."
I shake my head, but I can't bring myself to deny it. "You're the one... You pulled away from me." I reach for something to grab onto, something that will help me stand, but there's nothing in this whole stupid elevator. Nothing but him.
"I know." He shifts back, releasing me, but his eyes stay glued to mine.
I stumble to catch my balance, trying to hold onto the slick mirrored walls.
"Did you stop... loving me?" I ask, almost afraid to voice the question.
"Of course not."
"Lose your patience?" I close my eyes like that will somehow lessen the impact of a yes.
Damn it. Just hit the fucking button. End this conversation before it steers us off a cliff.
"Maybe."
Luke presses the button for our floor and the elevator starts to rise. He turns back to me, his eyes passing over me. It's not sexual. It's more like he's a doctor checking to make sure I have no obvious signs of illness.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open.
I step into the hallway, power walk to the door, and shove my key into the lock. Luke is right behind me, his hands on my arms, his breath on my neck.
Dammit. How can he make me feel so mixed up? So angry and hurt and turned on all at once?
"Alyssa. Can we talk about this?"
"You had plenty of chances to talk to me in the last few months."
I push the door open and walk inside. He follows me. I make no effort to stop him.
"Alyssa." It's a demand.
"Later."
I go into the bedroom, shut the door behind me, and crawl into bed.
It's only after I pull the covers over my head that I feel like I can breathe.
I'm fucking this up so badly. But I have no clue how to stop.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Luke
Isit on the couch and suck the last bit of tequila--the only alcohol in the apartment, of course--from my glass and place it in the sink.
Alyssa doesn't want to talk. Fine. But that isn't going to keep me from being near her, not when my body is screaming for proximity.
