Page 62 of Break Point
“You should sleep,” he says, his brows pulling together. “Might be a good idea if I left, too.”
“No,” I whisper, squeezing his hand in a sad attempt to get him to stay. “Please. Don’t leave me ever again.”
His presence gives me so much comfort and provides me with a sense of safety. So much so that the thought of him walking out that door hurts.I can feel my eyes pool with tears at the thought of it. I hate being over-emotional about this simple thing, especially when I know I’ll see him tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. But I can’t help it. Not when I’m feeling this raw, this vulnerable, this deep in my feelings.
I know I shouldn’t have said that. But whatever part of me is supposed to filter the words coming out of my mouth? Clearly faulty.
“Bells, I’m not going anywhere, just back to your parents’ house. You know I can’t stay here. I can’t spend the night?—”
I slide my hand around his neck and pull him closer. That stops him. I lean in slowly, enough to give him space to pull away if he wants to, but steady enough to show I won’t stop unless he does.
“Henry?” I whisper, pulling him closer to me. Our faces are so close I can feel my whole body tremble from how badly I want this. And I swear he’s trembling too. “I missed you so much it nearly killed me.”
“I missed you, too.” Henry’s voice cracks on a sigh, and his breath brushes over my mouth, warm and shaky. Then, quieter, like he didn’t mean to say it, he says, “So damn much.”
“I forgive you.” My fingers move through his hair and he groans, eyes fluttering shut like he’s trying to hold on to this second.
“Don’t toy with me.” His eyes widen and bore into mine.
“I already did.” I bob my head yes a few times. “Weeks ago.”
He runs his fingers through my damp hair, pulling it gently to tilt my head back. “What have you done to me, Bells?” He kisses my neck against my pulse point in a slow, controlled way that’s making my body melt deeper into the bed.
His lips move higher, leaving a trail of kisses along my jawline. I try moving my neck to catch his mouth and kiss him because the anticipation is driving me insane, but his grip on my hair, as gentle as it feels, immobilizes me.
“We shouldn’t,” he says. “You’re drunk.”
“It’s mostly exhaustion at this point.” I whisper, closing my eyes to focus on the sensation of having him so close like this. “I want this.”
I know I should’ve ended things with Liam earlier. I’ve been dancing around the truth, but I’m done lying to myself.
It’s always been you.
“I want?—”
Henry’s mouth meets mine before I can sayyou, and he finally kisses me. His warm, minty tongue parts my lips, and a million stars burst inside my chest, inside my head, and deep in my belly.
Henry’s lips feel soft and gentle against mine. He knows what he’s doing. He’s kissing me like he’s kissed me a million times before and knows exactly what I like and how I like it.
I suck his lower lip, and he lets out a soft groan that makes my head buzz, igniting a need I’ve never felt before.
How can this—we—feel so fucking perfect?
He breaks the kiss and sits beside me on the edge of the bed. The absence of him feels immediate, like someone just yanked the heat from the room.
I gather what little strength is left in me and sit up to kiss him again, feeling everything around me spinning. And this time, I know it’s not just the remnants of the alcohol stubbornly flowing through my veins. It’s him. It’sus. And whatever this is, it’s already too big to ignore.
He tilts my head back, our tongues meet again, and I keep telling myself I must be hallucinating. My fingers play with his hair and tug gently because I need this to be real. I’ve never wanted someone so much, never felt something so strong. I’m kissing him like he’s about to leave me again. Like I want his lips imprinted on mine forever.
“Wait … no.” Henry breaks off the kiss, pushing himself away from me, leaving me stunned. He turns away, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was got caught stealing on camera and it’s being replayed on every screen in Times Square.
“Shit, we fucked up. No,Ifucked up. I’m so sorry.”
He’s taking a step back with every word, and the distance between us grows faster than I can process it.
My head is still spinning, but I mostly blame the kiss.
I stare at his lips, hoping they’re as swollen as mine. That even now as he retreats, he can still feel the brush of my tongue on his, because I know I still do.
