Page 70 of Pining for Pierce
“It seemed only fair.”
“I guess so.”
I walk over to him as he pulls a white t-shirt from the shelf, yanking it on over his head. He stands for a second or two, thinking and then says, “It’s kinda cold, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
He rakes through his shirts, finding a dark red one, which he takes from its hanger, and then he turns to me, looking me up and down and narrowing his eyes just slightly before he spins back around and grabs a hoodie from the shelf below the one where he keeps his t-shirts.
“Take this,” he says. “It’ll keep you warm.”
I unfold it, hugging it to myself, and then pull it on over my head. The sleeves are far too long, and it comes down to the middle of my thighs, but it’s about the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn and I hug myself up in it. “You realize you’re never getting this back, don’t you?” I say as he rolls up the sleeves on his shirt.
“That’s fine with me, babe.” He pulls me close, reaching around behind me, his hands on my ass. “I love you,” he whispers, and I smile up at him.
“Do you?”
“Yes. With all my heart.”
I hadn’t expected that, although I don’t know why after everything that’s happened between us, and for a moment, I struggle to swallow down the lump in my throat.
“What did I do to deserve you?” I say once I have control of my voice.
“It should be me asking that, not you.”
“And how would you answer?”
“I don’t know. It’s not even as though I have anything to offer… other than breakfast.”
“I’ll take it.”
He chuckles, bending to kiss me, and while I expect him to take me to the kitchen, he surprises me by leading me over toward the bed.
“I’ll just make this look presentable,” he says. “You might wanna do something with your hair.”
I raise my hand to touch it, realizing what a mess it is.
“Do you have a brush or a comb?”
“Bedside table,” he says, nodding toward his side of the bed.
I wander over, retrieving a comb, and return to the bathroom, taking a while to drag it through my hair, before I braid it. By the time I come out again, Pierce is in the kitchen, fixing coffee.
“Can I help?”
“Sure. If you wanna take over doing this, I’ll scramble us some eggs.”
I nod my head, finding cups in the cabinet by the microwave, and setting the table. He’s made toast as well as the eggs, and when it’s all ready, we carry it to the table, putting down the plates and cups. My jacket is still over the back of the chair, and Pierce takes it, studying the sleeve for a moment, his face darkening.
I know what he’s thinking, and I step closer to him, looking up into his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“No, it’s not.” He drops my jacket, pulling me into a hug. “Never again,” he murmurs, his voice cracking slightly, and then he leans back, our eyes locking just for a second. His lips are on mine before I can snatch a breath, his hands cupping my cheeks. “Harley,” he murmurs, over and over, between kisses. “Harley… Harley… Harley…”
“I’m here.”
He deepens the kiss, like he needs to prove the point. We’re both here… and we both need this, more than I think either of us can say.
