“Do you know what I mean when I say I love you, Lenora?” I asked softly and tore my gaze from her mouth to look into her eyes. I saw her pupils dilate, heard her breathing increase. Was it arousal? Was it shock? Either way, she didn’t push me away. She let me hold her, touch her. “Do you really know what I mean when I say I love you?” She shook her head slowly, although I could see the lie in her expression. She knew. “It’s not the way I should love you, probably. But I can’t stop myself.”
She took in a stuttering breath. “Beckham?” Her voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear her say my name.
“And I know you’re probably wondering how I could say those awful things to you when I’m madly in love with you. How could I have hurt you the way I did, when you’re the only woman I want?” I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. She didn’t say anything, but her expression spoke loudly. What I said penetrated her deeply. I ran a hand over my jaw, feeling a day’s worth of stubble covering it. “And I don’t have an answer to that. All I can say is it was in the heat of the moment, my father’s pain consuming me. I lashed out at the wrong person. God, Lenora. I am so fucking sorry. That day will be the biggest fucking mistake of my life. My one regret.” I looked into her eyes, pleading without saying anything in that moment. “And I don’t need you to love me back. I just need you to be in my life. I’ll take whatever I can get.” I was desperate for her friendship, for her in my life.
I just hoped it wasn’t too late.
Chapter Eight
Lenora
I wanted to kiss him so badly.
I wanted him to kiss me more than anything in the world in that moment.
But I was confused—the situation, the emotions I felt, so profound I couldn’t breathe. I felt dizzy, scared.
I was excited and aroused.
I found myself breaking away from him and standing, unable to form words, unable to say anything in that moment.
I couldn’t even breathe.
“Beckham—I....” I didn’t even know what to say. The revelation, truth he’d just given me, rocked my world.
So instead of saying something wrong, awkward, or putting my foot in my mouth, I walked away from him. I made my way into the kitchen, finally able to suck in a breath, to try to gather my thoughts.
He loves me.
Beckham’s in love with me.
I braced my hands on the counter, curling my fingers around the granite, the stone cold, hard... sturdy and keeping me upright in that moment.
I closed my eyes and breathed out. I didn’t know how long I stood there; it could’ve been hours for all I knew but in reality was probably just mere seconds. I heard Beckham come into the kitchen, could feel the heaviness come from him in what he wanted to say. But he stayed silent until I turned around and faced him.
The way he looked at me was like a broken man, so much pain and anguish coming from him that all I wanted to do was go up to Beckham and embrace him. But right now, I shouldn’t worry about the past. I shouldn’t worry about anything but what he said to me, what he confided in me.
He was in love with me.
I could’ve prolonged this, questioned how he could have said those hurtful things to me if he’d been in love with me. Maybe it didn’t make any sense; maybe I shouldn’t believe a word he said. But I did. I looked into his face, stared into his eyes, and I knew the truth.
He was truly sorry.
He truly regretted what he said and what happened.
He didn’t mean any of it.
And he was in love with me.
I played that last bit over and over in my mind, grasping for it like it wasn’t my reality.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up,” he said and exhaled, looking down at his feet as if he regretted the situation.
But I didn’t want him to. I was letting it slowly sink in. I was coming to terms with the reality of how my life was forever changing. And that’s why I’d walked away. That’s why I left Beckham sitting in the living room by himself.
Because I had to process this.
But my reality wasn’t for the worse this time. It was absolutely for the better.
“Beckham,” I finally said, and he looked up at me instantly. “I’m in love with you too,” I admitted for the first time in my life, actually saying those words out loud. I’d felt them, thought them for so long that they’d been a part of me, buried so deep it was almost as if I had drowned in them.
And they were out in the open now, hanging between us.
I heard him suck in a breath, his expression telling me he was shocked to hear me say I was in love with him too.
“I’m just so confused,” I whispered the truth. My truth. Before I knew what was happening, he was in front of me, his hands on either side of my face, his big palms engulfing my cheeks.
He tipped my head back so I could look at him, but he said nothing. Neither did I. This moment was very profound, very healing.
I felt it down to my bones.
It was like that wound I had for so long was finally closing, was finally getting better. And so I did something I never thought I’d ever do in my life.
I did something that took a lot of courage.
I did something I was proud of myself for.
I rose up on my toes and kissed him.
Chapter Nine
Lenora
The kissed started off slow, tentative, but as the seconds moved by, I felt something in Beckham shift, snap.
He was the one kissing me now.
His motions were feverish, like an animal had been unleashed inside him. I felt my arousal grow, my excitement climb. I couldn’t breathe, could only feel him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured but still kissed me. “I should go slow,” he whispered against my mouth, but I pressed my body harder against his.
I’d never done anything like this with a man, nothing remotely sexual. I focused on school, work. I focused on making sure I could have a good life. Boys hadn’t been in that equation at a young age.
But when I felt desire and arousal, the only person who had ever come into my thoughts was the man currently kissing me.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered back.
“Never.” He groaned out that lone word.
I felt how hard he was as he moved closer, his erection digging against my belly. I might be a virgin, but I wasn’t a prude. I knew what happened during sex, on how these things progressed. I went to a public school, heard the way guys spoke about it, saw movies. But I was still so nervous.
I felt him grind himself against my stomach over and over again, and I found myself moaning into his mouth. He swallowed the sound greedily.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said in a breathless tone. “So long.”
And as I stared into his face, this little part of me cried out with joy.
“I love you, Beckham.”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine. For long seconds, neither of us said anything. Then he pulled me close and just held me.
“You have no idea what it does to me to know you love me too, that you don’t hate me. That you can forgive me.”