He sees it. The falter in my expression. His jaw flexes, and I canfeelhis walls go higher.
“You think I’m sick now?”
I hesitate. “No. I just... I don’t know if I’m like that.”
He leans in, his gaze intense. One hand cups my cheek. “You’re not.”
It stings. Even though it shouldn’t.
“But—”
He brushes my stray hair back, petting me, and his voice softens.
“That’s not what I want with you, Charlotte.”
I stare at him, lips parted, holding my breath.
“I just want to keep you for as long as I can.”
“But why don’t you want to keep me and still—”
“Because you’re not built for it,” he replies brusquely, but his eyes betray something raw. “You’re not a hole for me to use. Not some girl I spit on and leave wrecked in her bed.”
Actually, he did spit on me once, but I don’t want to dig that up.
“Maybe I could learn... for you.”
“I don’t want you to,” he says, his frustration building. But he manages to lower his voice. “You need someone... good.”
“You are good,” I whisper, but the look on his face says he doesn’t believe me. “Grayson. Didn’t you tell me once you wanted a family? A wife and kids. A house. A dog. That sounds like a good man.”
He shakes his head. “Except I can’t get a respectable job to support them,” he mumbles, then louder, “I already burned that dream before it ever had a chance.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to stop myself from blurting:That could be us!
After all, he’s talking about everything I’d love to have, but in the same breath, he pushes it away.
Pushesmeaway.
I can’t help it and jump on his lap, kissing his face like he’s truly mine. I feel his cheeks rise as he smiles. He loves it. And like a fool, I say, “I want a family, too! A quiet one, without big parties or Brax.”
He holds me, his gaze solemn as he nods slowly. “You deserve that kind of life. I see how well you take care of Atticus. You’ll be a great mother, Charlotte.”
My mouth hangs open. I pray silently:Please, say a great mother... to your kids.
He leans back, calm, but his lips purse like he’s trying not to say more.
My heart sinks as the familiar sting of disappointment returns.
I trysohard, but I don’t know how to get him to believewecould have that life. It’s so dang frustrating!
Thus, I just sit there.
With his taste on my tongue. My heart in my throat. And the ache of loving someone who thinks we’re doomed.
Just then, he completely flips the energy in the room, acting like we weren’t discussing something serious. He tugs my pants down and dives in. No warning, no build-up. Just his mouth on me, devouring like he’s starving.
It takes a beat for me to reset my brain, but eventually, my head tips back and I moan. My body breaks apart beneath his tongue.
