Everything is golden and warm as I clutch her tight and ride out the waves until the pleasure dissipates, leaving me bone-weary.
My lips hover against hers.
I try to catch my breath, try to keep my thoughts from running wild and ruining the moment.
But again, I realize…I don’t know what to do.
My face lifts, and I brush my lips against the corner of her mouth for a final kiss. She blinks up at me, eyes foggy and half-lidded. Her lashes flutter as I come into focus above her, and she inhales a tight breath before pushing up off the keyboard.
I take a step back, slipping from her heat.
I’m still hard, our thighs sticky and wet.
The emptiness returns the moment we’re apart, and I feel cold.
Sliding my tongue along my lower lip, I reach down and yank my pants back up, tugging at the zipper but forgoing the buckle. I wait for her to say something. Anything.
I hate that this happened after an argument, while she was angry with me—while she urged me touseher. She needs to know that it wasn’t just fucking. It was…
I don’t know.
More.
More than I know how to put into words.
“Stevie, I…” My voice trails off as I stare at her, craving guidance. “Is that what you wanted?”
Fear slithers through me—fear that she was goading me, just trying to prove a point.
But Stevie wouldn’t do that.
I trust her. I’m safe with her.
She fumbles to pull her dress over her head, her hands quivering, legs unsteady. When her dress lands at her thighs, she pulls her hair from the collar and glances up at me. A beat passes as her tongue pokes out between her lips.
She nods. “Yes.”
Relief has my shoulders deflating, and I blow out a breath. “Okay.” I swallow, raking a hand through my hair. “Good.”
“I just…”
My muscles tense up, and I go still. “You what?”
Blinking rapidly, Stevie takes my hand in hers and twines our fingers together. Confusion glitters in her eyes, tears still glowing on her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
I shake my head a little, but I can’t think of anything to say.
I don’t know either.
We just crossed a line—a line that goes far beyond fake dating and a worldwide publicity stunt.
Where does that leave us?
Dating for real? A relationship? Friends with benefits until we publicly break up and Stevie flies back to Chicago, out of my life for good?
Where does that leave me?
I glance away, down at my discarded, wrinkled shirt.
