Page 84 of Pride
“But I do feel a sort of way,” I snapped, unable to hold my frustration in any longer. And with a disgruntled sigh, I asked, “What’s happening here?”
He looked taken aback.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s happening here, between us.” I gestured between the two of us, moving on from destroyed roses to the state of my heart, and then everything I’d been keeping inside came tumbling out. “You’ve pursued me, stalked me even, tracking me down in the street, coaxing me into your car and doing everything you could to pull me into your life and now... I get forehead kisses and pecks on the cheek. Sweet gestures, which are beautiful, but Alex, what the fuck is going on? Why are you treating me like this? You’re handling me with kid gloves as if I’ll break at any moment. But I won’t. I’m not fucking fragile, and I can handle myself.”
“I know that,” he said, pleading as he looked at me in shock. “I’ve always told you how strong you are. I know you can handle yourself.” He spoke with quiet urgency, willing me to listen and believe him.
“Okay, maybe not fragile, but the way you’ve been with me has changed. What happened to the Alex who won’t take no for answer? The one who told me he’d never let me walk away again?” I shook my head, staring at the ground as I said, “You haven’t had any trouble walking away from me the last few nights, though.” I looked up now to see the anguish in his eyes. “You’ve walked away from me more than once.”
“Physically, maybe,” he uttered, his tone breaking slightly with emotion, “But mentally, you’ve never left here.” He tapped the side of his head. “And I don’t think you’re fragile, vulnerable, or any of the things you might think, but what I do see is something real here. And I didn’t want to fuck it up. Maybe I’ve been more in my head about it than I should’ve been. Perhaps I’ve let outside factors cloud my judgment, but it’s not because I don’t want you.”
“If you think there’s something real here, then be real. Be yourself. Not the watered-down version you think I can handle, but the one I met that night at the gallery. The one who stood in the rain in a side street and told me he was seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me away like a caveman. I don’t want to play games, Alex.”
“I’m not playing games.”
I sighed.
“I don’t need to have my hand held to get me to wherever you think I need to be before you start showing me who you really are.”
“You want me to show you who I really am?” he asked, and I could see his eyes darken as he moved closer.
“I want honesty,” I stated, standing my ground. “And I want authenticity. And despite everything in my life being a shit show right now... I want you. I know you’re not being yourself and I don’t want that anymore.”
“But are you sure you’re ready...”
“Stop overthinking it, Alex,” I snapped.
“But I was only trying to go slower because I thought...”
“You think too much,” I said. “At least, you do when it comes to this. And I love how thoughtful you are and how considerate, taking the time to arrange special things for me, but I’m here to tell you, you can let go. You can be yourself.”
“Let me get this straight,” he said, moving closer still, his body mere inches from mine as I watched him breathing deeply in anticipation for what might happen next. “You’re giving me the green light to take this further?”
“Yes,” I answered as I took a slow breath.
“And you want me,” he stated, with the hint of a proud smirk that he tried to hide.
“Yes.”
He leaned forward, cupped my cheek with his hand, then brushed his thumb across my bottom lip as he sighed deeply. Then he moved his hand to my shoulder and stroked his fingers delicately over my skin, touching the strap of my dress as he whispered in my ear, “Then take this off. Now.”
The commanding way he spoke made me shiver, and I didn’t react right away.
“What are you waiting for?” he repeated, his voice calm and authoritative, “I said, take this off.”
I reached around to the zip at the back of the dress and pulled it down, letting the straps fall from my shoulders as I shimmied out of it. Slowly, it fell to the floor, leaving me standing in my underwear.
He took a deep breath, gazing appreciatively at my body, and then he reached forward and took one of my breasts in his hand, squeezing and massaging as he said, “You’re so fucking beautiful, Emma. Now get the rest of this off and lie in the middle of the bed. I want to see you. All of you.”
He let his hand drop to his side and took a step back.
“Come on. Don’t keep me waiting,” he urged, and the feral look, the hunger in his eyes spurred me on.
I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor, exposing myself to him, and I swear he gave a low growl before telling me, “I always knew you’d be perfect. You’re fucking stunning.”
“Are you gonna...” I was going to ask if he would take his clothes off, too, but he tutted and shook his head.
