Page 56 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine,” I say. “Not with me.”
I want to reach for her. To close the space and wrap her in something safer than words. But I hold back—because sometimes, the people holding on the hardest are the ones who can’t ask for help out loud, and I’m not sure I have the right to be her knight in shining armor yet.
She swallows. Her breath shakes a little as she exhales.
Suddenly, her arms are around me, tight and fierce, like she’s been holding herself together all night and is finally lets go. I wrap my arms around her without hesitation, pressing my face against her hair.
She’s warm. Solid. Real.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Her brow furrows slightly, like the idea of someone staying—really staying—is both beautiful and terrifying. “But why? You don’t have to carry my baggage, Jake.”
“It’s not baggage,” I say. “It’s part of you, and I… I want all of it.”
She goes still.
Her hands tremble slightly against my chest, and I cover them with mine. “You don’t have to be perfect around me, Maya. You can be messy. Loud. Quiet. Angry. Whatever you need.”
She blinks, then lets out a laugh—this shaky, half-sobbing laugh that breaks something open inside me.
“God,” she murmurs. “You make it so hard not to fall for you.”
I smile softly. “Then don’t fight it.”
For a moment, neither of us breathes.
I don’t mean to kiss her. I swear I don’t.
But the way she looks at me—those eyes, wide and shimmering in the moonlight—the way her lips part a fraction, warm breath mingling with mine like a secret invitation…
It’s impossible to resist.
My hand slides up slowly, almost reverently, until it cups the side of her jaw. Her skin is soft beneath my palm, and when I tilt her face toward me, her pulse flutters under my fingertips like it’s racing ahead of my own.
I lean in and kiss her.
It’s not soft.
It’s not tentative.
It’s every moment I’ve denied myself, every quiet ache shoved down since the second I realized how badly I wanted her—how much I still want her.
She kisses me back instantly, fierce and sure. Her fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer, tighter, like she’s afraid I might disappear if she doesn’t.
I grip her hips and press tight against her body. The night air is cool, but she’s burning against me, and I want more.
Her hands trace up my chest, fingers slipping around my neck, tangling in my hair. I groan softly, low in my throat, when she rises on her toes, pressing every inch of her body against mine like we’re trying to fuse into one.
“You have no idea,” I murmur against her lips, breath ragged, “how much I want you.”
Her fingers glide over my jawline, sending sparks straight to my core. Her voice is a breathy whisper. “Jake…”
I pull back enough to catch her eyes—deep and bright, unguarded.
“Say it,” I challenge softly.
She blinks, surprised. “Say what?”
