“My truth is, I held back with you because I was scared I’d rip you in fuckin’ two. I wanted to fuck you so hard you’d just…break into pieces. I wanted to fuck you so damned hard you’d feel it in every goddamn bone in your body.” His voice was a feral threatening snarl that shivered into my center. “I wanted to fuck you in every position there is, a hundred times. I wanted to fuck your mouth and fuck your pussy. I wanted to watch you go down on me until you choked on my cum.”
I shook all over at his words.
“I want to hold both of your hands in one of mine and pin you down so you can’t get away and fuck you until you scream.” His eyes burned. “I want it so bad I’m fuckin’ crazy with it. I wake up hard as a damned rock needing to fuck you so bad. I want you till I’m…till I’m fuckin’ crazy. And that scares me shitless. How bad I want you. The things I want. The way I want them. I’m not a violent person. Not a demanding or aggressive person. But you? You make me something else, woman. You do things to me just by bein’ you.”
“Holy shit, Ink.”
“And you know what scares me even more?”
“What?” I whispered.
“When I say I want to fuck you,” he hissed the word, drew it out, emphasized every letter, every sound, “I mean make love. In the deepest, truest, rawest sense of the phrase.”
“Ink…”
“That’s what scares me, Little Sparrow.”
“What if I told you I’m just as scared?” I slid closer to him. “That I’m just as scared because I want that same thing, those same things, just as much?”
“I believe you,” he whispered.
Silence. Tense, tight, boiling with unspoken ideas and thoughts and words and emotions.
“So, now what?” I asked.
“Now you tell me what your future looks like.”
Totally unexpected. So unexpected I blinked in the darkness, mouth flapping open and closed. “I—I—what?”
“What do you want, Cassandra?” He took my hand. Held it. Squeezed hard. “Not about me, or us. For you. What do you want? Who are you? Who are you, now? What are you going to do?”
“What does that…” I swallowed a hot thick burning lump in my throat, only to have it lodge in my chest. “What does that have to do with us?”
“Fuckin’ everything, Cass. Everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Think about it, boo.” He traced the pad of a fingertip over my knee, on the skin that showed through the rip in my jeans.
“I am, but I don’t understand what me figuring out my life has to do with you and me wanting each other.”
“I ain’t a hump-and-dumper, Cass. I don’t do temporary. Don’t do casual. Don’t do hookups.”
“I…I mean, I have, but that’s not what I want with you.” I hurt. God, this hurt, so fucking bad. “I want…more. What, I don’t know. But more.”
“Me too. I want everything.”
“Okay, so I don’t get the issue.” I blinked back tears. “You want to be with me, I want to be with you. So maybe I still have some shit to work out. I will. I am.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.” Uncomfortable.
“So you ain’t just usin’ me to avoid working out your issues?”
“No.”
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, babe.” His voice was a growl. “Don’t lie to yourself.”
“Why are you being so mean?” I snapped, yanking my hand away and scrambling away from him. “Why do you fucking care what I do with my goddamn life?”
“Because I want our lives to be one life. And you can’t offer yourself and your life if you’re still lost and refusing to face your shit.”
“It’s hard!” I yelled. “You have no fucking idea how hard it is. I lost everything. I had to sell and donate half of my life and belongings because I couldn’t afford to ship it home from Paris. I lost my career, my passion. My fucking mobility. My fiancé, and everything I thought I knew about him and our relationship. I—lost—everything—in that goddamn car wreck. So yeah, I’m still a bit of a mess. Still figuring it out. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to offer you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He frowned, puzzling through his thoughts.
“It’s what you said.” I was fighting another sob-fest.
“I know. But you’re missing my point. It’s not about what I’m getting from you. It’s what I want for you. For the us that could be.”
“Okay, Yoda. Whatthefuckever.”
“Don’t, Cass. You’re avoiding yourself. You’re scared to face it. That’s okay. I’m here. I’ll help. And if you need time, I’ll be there waiting when you figure it out.” His voice was soft and quiet and tender. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m not rejecting you. I’m just saying we can’t have a real relationship until you face your own shit.”
“And what about you?” I snarled. “You have your own share of demons, don’t you? What about the fact that you didn’t even jack off for what, almost ten years? Because one woman messed you up? One woman hurt you? You took that all on yourself and shut down totally. You think that’s healthy? You think one night of messing around has fixed all that? You think I’m the only one that has shit to face?”
“There’s a difference, Cassie. Yeah, I have shit to handle. Yeah, it affects you and us—but that requires us working together. Me learning to trust you, and learning to trust myself. To open up. It will happen, but it’ll take time. I’m willing to do it. I’m admitting I have a hard time being open. I admit I hold back a lot, don’t express shit very well when it comes to physical stuff. I admit I’m afraid of letting go. You’re right. It’s at least in part because I’m afraid of me, not you. I know you don’t want to hurt me. Even when you left, I knew it was not about me, it was about you. I watched you leave, you know. I watched you struggle. I got it then, and I get it now. Yeah, Cass, I’m fucking afraid of intimacy. I’m afraid of vulnerability. I’m afraid of letting go. But I’m admitting that, and I’m committing to you, right here, right now, that I can and will actively work toward total trust and vulnerability with you, emotionally and physically. Because I believe you and me have a real shot at a relationship like my cousin has, like all her in-laws have. I see all fuckin twelve of ’em, Lucas included, havin’ these deep meaningful fulfilling fuckin’ romances…and I want that shit.”
His eyes bored into mine.
“I want that shit for myself. And I want that shit with you.” He was utterly still, and that stillness, the quiet intensity in his deep voice made his words hit me all the harder, like a comet smashing into earth. “I want that shit with you, and I am willin’ to do whatever the fuck it takes to be the man you deserve. To be good. For you, for us. So I can fulfill you. I’ll do that shit, Cass.”
Tears, fucking tears. Lump in my throat. Ache in my chest. Can’t breathe. Can’t swallow. Can’t make my limbs or fingers or brain or mouth or anything work. Just paralyzed.