Page 55 of Unspoken Confessions
Well, if that didn’t make me feel even shittier.
“Okay?” I blinked at him utterly confused.
“I don’t know what you want from me? You want to fight? No, I’m not going to fight with you, and I’m not going to fight for someone that doesn’t want it. And I’m sure as fuck not going to force something on you. So what else do you want from me?”
“That’s not…” I started but maybe he was right. Some part of me had hoped that he would force me to set myself free. To say that he’d fight my demons for me and push me to be the person I wanted to be. And he was also right in not doing any of those things. I hated him for it, and I kind of was in awe of him too. Whatever would come next, it had to be my move to make and I had to be the one to decide to take that first step.
“Whatever you need, I’m here for you. You just have to talk to me. Don’t shut me out. Don’t pretend or ignore or whatever it is that you are doing. It happened. If you can’t handle it, then say that. If you’re freaked out and don’t know what’s going on, fucking talk to me. Tell me that you can’t or that you wished it never happened. Or fuck, it was a moment of weakness and a lapse in judgment after a very emotional day. As long as it’s the truth and you’re not trying to hurt me, then we’re good.”
The words that I’d said to Jen flashed in my head and the response that he’d had about Jameson.
And then I said them, hoping he would understand all that I couldn’t say.
“I’m stuck and unhappy and lonely.”
He looked stunned for a moment. As my words registered in his brain, I saw just how hard they had hit him. Everything about him went soft. Well, not soft. That wasn’t exactly a word you could use to describe a man like him. But the sharp edges of the lines that cut into his face and made him seem angry all the time became less deep. And that hard, closed-off look in his eyes melted away, but only around the outer rim. His shoulders, which were always stiff and high, sagged.
“I’m stuck and unhappy and lonely too,” he said in a whisper that I also hated to describe as soft, but it was just that. It was broken, and yet, I heard the relief he felt when he released those words.
I reached out, not even aware of what I was doing. For once, I was feeling. And not in the way that I felt a character or a role. I wasn’t trying to imagine myself as someone else. No, this time, I was feeling as me.
I snagged the hem of his shirt and his eyes flashed. It wasn’t desire this time, it was something else. Something less sexual but still full of need.
I didn’t know what to do next, but that was okay. There was this small connection between us even though our skin wasn’t touching.
With a measured step, he closed the gap between us. My chin tilted up as he leaned in. Then his lips were brushing over mine.
That little touch was everything.
Itsaideverything.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, then the other. Soft. Sweet. Perfect.
When he brushed his lips over mine again, I leaned up and pressed mine just a little harder against his. Then he kissed me. And again. Little, lingering pecks that I wanted more of. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem like he was ready to step away this time.
I tilted my head, my lips lining perfectly up with his. His big, rough hands tenderly cupped my jaw. Warmth flooded my face from his touch and slithered down my entire body.
Then we were kissing like we were trying to hold on to one another. I opened up and his tongue lazily rolled over mine but there was nothing sloppy about it.
The kiss slowed and he pulled away like his lips were fused to mine. I held on to every tingle and feeling that flowed through me, not wanting it to end. When he finally pulled back, I blinked my eyes open to find him looking down at me. I tried to smile. It came out wobbly and I couldn’t hide it.
Then it was like I’d been hit with a forceful bolt of lightning. I sucked in a sharp breath at the words and images that suddenly flooded my head.
This…
This I knew I mustnotignore.
His eyes looked panicked as if he was afraid that he’d done something wrong. But I couldn't explain it to him. He hadn’t, for sure.
In fact, he’d done everything right. He’d done everything, period.
I lightly pushed him away. Afraid that if I spoke to explain the crazy reaction, I’d lose everything.
I flopped down into the chair behind the desk and booted up my laptop. My lids closed like I could hold in everything with that one move. I realized it was insane, but I wasn’t exactly thinking.
I faintly heard Jameson’s steps retreating away from me, and I barely noticed that they were headed in the direction of the door.
“Don’t go,” I breathed out quickly before clamping my mouth shut. Again, afraid of even the littlest thing in my brain escaping me before I could permanently capture it.
He stopped, stood still for a second, taking me in, I was sure because I could feel his eyes on me. I paid it little mind even though I loved that feeling. Which I shouldn’t since I felt very exposed and vulnerable right now.
When I forced my lids apart, my focus was instantly on the now lit up screen. Then I opened up my writing program and set my fingers on the keys.
He must have sensed that this was something important and without a word— not that I would expect anything else— he walked over to the couch and carefully lowered himself down so he made little sound.
My fingers flew over the keys.
I wrote.
And I didn’t stop.
