15. Ryder #3
My hand slides to her waist. Her sweater bunches beneath my fingers, soft fabric and the shape of her under it, and every bad hour of the day crashes into the relief of having her here. Safe. Warm. Touching me because she wants to.
I lift her onto the counter.
Alex’s knees part around my hips, and my control nearly snaps because my body is pressed directly against the heat of her core.
I freeze with my hands on her waist and my forehead against hers, breathing like I ran all the way home instead of drove. “We need to stop.”
Her fingers tighten in my shirt. “No, we don’t.”
“I’m not thinking clearly.”
“I am.”
I pull back enough to see her face. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, mouth swollen from mine. She looks turned on, irritated, and completely aware of what she is asking for.
That makes all of this harder.
“You had a hell of a day,” I say.
“So did you.”
“Alex.”
“Don’t use my name like I’m being unreasonable.
” She lets go of my shirt and sets both hands flat on the counter beside her thighs.
The movement puts distance between us without her climbing down, and I hate that I caused it.
“I’m not trying to use sex as a panic button.
I’m not confusing you with safety because Preston scared me today.
I wanted you before the article bullshit at the office.
I wanted you before the report I had to file.
I want you right now because you’re you, and I’m tired of you treating this whole thing like I’m not in control of my own thoughts and mind and what I fucking want. ”
My chest tightens until breathing feels like work that isn’t worth it.
She’s right. Not about all of it, maybe, but enough to have me questioning not only myself but my decisions too.
“I don’t want to make something worse for you,” I say.
“You’re making me feel like my wanting you can’t be trusted.”
That one guts me.
I step back, not far, but enough that she can get down if she wants to. “That’s not what I want.”
“I know.” Her voice softens, which somehow hurts more. “But it’s what keeps happening. You’re trying to be noble at the same time that you’re telling me about your obsession, your want, your complete desire of me. But you’re not giving me the choice to show you that it’s a two way street.”
The refrigerator hums behind us. Rain ticks against the window. Alex looks down at her hands, then slides off the counter before I can help her. I let her, even though every part of me wants to put my hands back on her and fix the thing I just fucked up.
She smooths her sweater over her hips and takes a breath. “You’re not going to sleep tonight.”
“I’ll try.”
Her eyes meet mine with no patience in them.
I rub the back of my neck. “No.” I admit. “Probably not gonna get a lot of rest.”
“Then sleep with me.”
My whole body goes still.
Alex rolls her eyes, but the edge of hurt stays in her face. “Actually sleep. Do not make me regret using a normal phrase like a normal adult and have you panic thinking I’m propositioning you when you panic while kissing me.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face said several things, and at least two of them were filthy.”
That almost gets me to smile. Almost.
She steps closer and takes my hand before I can decide whether I’m allowed to reach out for her.
“I don’t want you on the couch listening for me to move all night.
I don’t want to be upstairs knowing you’re awake because you think the house is going to fail or the security will be overpowered by my douchebag ex if you close your eyes.
I know I’ll sleep better if you’re there instead of the sweater we both know I’d sleep in without you. I think you will too.”
I look at our hands. Hers is smaller, colder, and still steady around mine.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “But this is something that I’m choosing, and I’m sure about that.”
That is the only answer I need.
I check the alarm and the feeds. Alex waits by the stairs with my hand still in hers, and when I turn back, she gives me a look that says she counted every second but is choosing not to comment on how long it took while I was dragging my feet.
I let her have the silence because she has already given me more than I deserve.
In the guest room, she climbs into bed first and lifts the blanket.
I get in beside her fully dressed, careful with every inch until she turns onto her side and pulls my arm around her waist herself.
Her back fits against my chest, her hand settling over mine like a weight and a promise wrapped into that tiny little gesture.
Christ, she feels exactly the way I’ve dreamt she would for years.
The cameras glow downstairs. The rain keeps tapping the glass. I stay awake long enough to feel her breathing even out beneath my hand, and for the first time since this shit started, the dark doesn’t feel like something I have to beat back with my bare hands.
Alex makes everything more bearable, even my obsessive need to make sure she’s taken care of.
Now I just have to figure out how to keep her, because I was right. I haven’t even tasted her yet, and I know there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to walk away…or let her go.