Page 383 of One More Kiss

“What are you doing here?”

She licks her lips and my dick jerks in my pants. “I brought you lunch.” She pulls a white paper bag out from behind her back.

“You came all this way to bring me lunch?”

A smile. A tease. A step in my direction. “I wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you did. I missed you,” I tell her, even though it’s only been a day since I saw her. Since I roughly fucked her up against her refrigerator, angry as I’ve been angry all week, and taking it out on her body. She loved every second of it.

My hands wrap around her waist, and I drag her into me, feeling the heat of her skin as I bury my face into her neck, breathing her in.

I love you. And I hate this. It’s not fun anymore.

For a man who had his entire life together and figured out, I am an absolute disaster now. Delaney Banks has completely upended my existence.

“Come on.” Taking her hand, I lead her outside, across the campus of the hospital, over to a bench that overlooks the Charles River. It’s hot out and the sun is shining high overhead, but the cool breeze kicking up off the water feels like heaven.

She pulls out sandwiches while prattling on about her morning at the shop. She tells me about the last-minute bachelorette party she has scheduled for this weekend and all the crazy things they want done for it. I’m silent. Nodding and listening, but not contributing a whole lot. I’m lost in my thoughts. Talking with Ann, hearing how free she is to date whomever she wants…

I want that. All of it. With Delaney.

I want dates and hand-holding and public kisses and her spending time with Knox. And life. I want a fucking life again. Some happiness with someone. I want to feel love and be loved. I want to look at someone and feel like my heart is going to explode with that insatiable craziness where you can’t stay away or keep your hands to yourself.

And the one person I want, I can’t have any of that with.

It’s killing me.

Day by day, hour by hour. I’m in love with this woman. She is everything to me.

But… I don’t want to do this anymore. I must voice the words aloud, because she stops, her sandwich an inch from her mouth as if she was about to take a bite.

“What do you mean?” It’s a whisper. Shaky and unsettled.

I glance down and realize I haven’t even touched my food. Then I look back up at her. Right into her eyes. I can’t make sense of my thoughts or how I want to say them. “I don’t like sneaking around anymore. It was fun in the beginning. But it’s not now.”

She sets her food down and turns toward the water. “Okay.”

“That’s it? That’s all? Just… okay?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Do you not agree?”

She clasps her hands on her lap, her expression turning contemplative. Inward. “I like being with you. I love the sex. But you’re right, the sneaking around, the not actually being together… it’s tiring.”

Her words hit me strangely. I’m not even sure what it is in them, but it has me frowning. She likes being with me, loves the sex. Likes being with me. Loves the sex. That’s it. It seems so inadequate. So cold and detached. Like we hit the dead end of a road and now it’s time to turn back because that’s the only option we have, and she doesn’t want to try to find another path forward.

She’s dispassionate about it.

I’m a fucking mess, contemplating risking everything, and she’s not there with me.

How can I risk my relationship with my brother for a woman who simply “likes” being with me? Maybe if she had said she loves being with me and didn’t mention the sex at all, I’d be reacting differently. I don’t know. All I know is that my insides feel like they’re being punched repeatedly, and I hate this.

Living a fake version of a life I can’t actually have.

“So this is it then, right?” Her head swivels in my direction. “We’re ending this?”

“Are we?” I search her eyes, begging her to give me something more, but her expression is so closed off.

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