Page 70 of Must Love Bees
Astrid drew in an unsteady breath.
He waited, hoping she’d argue or say something that would prevent all his locked-up childhood insecurities and self-loathing from getting out. Anything.
“I understand.” She hugged herself.
“No, you don’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing.
“I want to understand.” Her words were a whisper.
He stared at her. How could he explain? Did he want to? “You grew up with all this. Your aunts, your grandparents—they supported you? Accepted you?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“That’s not always the case.” It was hard to go on. “I grew up knowing I wasdifferent.” He used air quotes and added, “Special.” He’d learned to hate that word. “My family made sure of that.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t like groups of people. Or new people. Words... I’d rather not talk. Which translates into being rude or inconsiderate or stupid. I can’t...” He broke off.
He didn’t realize Astrid had moved until her hand rested on his arm.
“Eye contact.” He shook his head. “Emotions. Feelings. Touch.” He kept on shaking his head but took her hand. “This isn’t normal for me.” He stared at their hands. “But you... I want to touch you.” And it scared the shit out of him. He glanced her way, hating that he’d revealed so much. He’d laid himself bare and now she could laugh at him or rip him to shreds.
“I’m so sorry, Charlie.” Her hand squeezed his. “I’m sorry no one stood up for you.”
He wasn’t looking for pity. “Eventually, I stood up for myself.” He cleared his throat. “Now I don’t need anyone’s approval. I don’t want it. It’s better that way. No one to—”
“Hurt you?” She sounded so sad.
He’d made her sad.Dammit. “No. Get in the way.”
“Am I getting in the way?”
“Yes.” He gripped her hand when she went to pull away. “No.” He turned to face her. “I don’t know, Astrid.” What the hell was he trying to accomplish?
She was silent for a long time before she asked, “Why do you want to touchme, Charlie?”
His throat was too tight to answer, so he shook his head.
Her eyes were searching for something.
“You...you make me feel. Alive.” The words were out, hanging between them, and all he could do was hold his breath and wait for her response.
“That’s bad?” She didn’t move.
He nodded. “No.”
Her smile lit her up from the inside and spilled out into the room. Light and warm and all-encompassing.
He’d stand here for hours to watch her smile. It was so powerful it held all his worry and disbelief at bay. He knew this would never work. He accepted he’d be left more broken than ever when it was over. But he wasn’t strong enough to resist her. Hell, he didn’t want to. Whatever this was, he wanted it. He wanted her.
She squeezed his hand.
“What do you want? You’re going to have to tell me or show me, Astrid. If you don’t, I will screw up.” He took one step, then another, stopping when her hands rested against his chest and she was staring up at him.
“You won’t, Charlie.” She stood on tiptoe. “But I’ll show you.” Her lips met his.
He caught her against him, his mouth hungry for her. Warm. Astrid was warm. Everything about her. Her lips. Her mouth. He wanted to drown in her warmth. He was free to run his fingers through her hair. It was silky soft, thick and heavy, slipping between his fingers like water. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted. How could something be fragile, yet so potent?
She clung to him, trembling, as his mouth trailed along the arch of her neck. The taste of her was intoxicating. Not just her mouth, but her skin. Her temple and cheek, chin and neck, and the hollow at the juncture of her collarbone. Astrid saturated each and every one of his senses.
But laughter from downstairs had them stepping apart.
