Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Whit
I pulled at the door knob, fumbling, but got it open, my hopes crumbling and my eyes filling with tears.
Before I got it fully open, Ben was at my back, pushing the panel closed. He’d come at me so quickly, he’d knocked me forward, but grabbed my arm to keep me from running into the wall. He pulled on it until I turned.
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but seeing him so close, even with all his anger and frustration directed at me, was no less affecting than usual. He had coarse stubble covering his cheeks and jaw, his hair was short, and his face looked lean, hard, and very un-Ben.
“Why would you say that to me?” he asked, his voice a low slice into the air between us.
“I—I said a lot of things, all of them true.”
“Why would say you love me? What does that get you?” he asked, his eyes frantically searching between mine .
That look, that question, made me lose the reins on my tears. “It doesn’t get me anything. I said it because I love you. Because it’s true.”
His face was so serious, so sad, all I wanted was to pull him to me and kiss him, calm him, make him know the way I knew.
“I’m so mad at you, I don’t even know where to start,” he said, his voice quiet.
“Tell me. Just… start.” Because if he was talking, I could take it. Maybe we could take it.
“I hate that you told me in front of everyone. I hate that you didn’t make me stay with you that night—pin me down or something and force me to understand. I have missed you so much.”
He crushed me to him in a hug so tight, all air left my lungs. Then he drew back.
“I am frustrated that I don’t know if I can trust you, and I’m mad at myself for wanting to be able to.”
Hope bloomed. His perpetual honesty and his anger and all of it gave me hope, it being so much better than that blank defeat he’d given me in the hotel room back in LA.
“You can trust me. I haven’t lied about anything else. Truly. Nothing. I avoided telling you about meeting before, and that was huge. I lied by omission, and it was unacceptable. But nothing else has been false between us, except maybe the attempt at being just friends who were fake-dating because that was ridiculous. But nothing else.”
Adrenaline coursed through me as I watched his face, saw as his eyes moved over my features, hesitating on my lips, as his hands gently squeezed where they rested on my upper arms. I prayed with all my heart he would hear the truth in my words and believe me .
“I want to believe you,” he said, stepping closer, like he couldn’t help it.
My heart tripped in my chest, my breath unsteady in my mouth. He had to know this was all real.
“I want you to believe me. Ask me anything, I’ll tell you the truth.” His beautiful blue eyes were so intense, I couldn’t look away.
“Did you plan on that speech at the awards all long?”
“No.”
“Why did Nikki have me re-sign the confidentiality agreements?”
Alarm swarmed my chest. “What? I didn’t know about that.”
“I did it the last time I saw you before you left. I’m sure I told you—she asked me to stop in and talk with her that last night before you went to LA. That was it. And I was so distracted, I didn’t think twice about it. But after… it felt like another piece to the puzzle I’d chosen to lose.”
He watched me closely, as though I’d betray another lie with body language.
“She never spoke with me about it, but I can assure you I will be speaking to her.” My voice was calm, sure, with nothing to hide.
“I believe you,” he said, and a sprig of hope, of possibility, bloomed.
“Good,” I said, giving in to the step closer I’d been wanting to take.
I put my hands at his waist, stopping short of outright groping his sturdy sides. Getting to touch him was both a relief and a kind of torture.
“Do you really love me?” he asked, his voice gentle, eyes searching.
“Yes.” The one word rang ardent .
A whisper of a smile crossed his gorgeous lips. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I’ve never told anyone that—I really don’t think I’ve ever said it to anyone, but certainly not a man. It was never going to be easy for me.”
He’d slowly lowered his head so our faces were close. We were speaking lightly, softly, sharing space, breath.
“Will you tell me now?” he asked, his lips grazing my ear.
I shivered, almost laughed at the pleasure of it. “I love you, Ben.”
He pulled back, a contrast of hunger and elation on his face. “I love you, Whit.”
Finally, finally, our lips met, and the relief of that contact, of that seal on the moment, was immeasurable.
“I missed you. So much. Too much,” he said between kisses, stepping closer, pulling me closer, everything in us working to get closer .
“Me too. I’ve been a mess,” I replied, breathless and ravenous.
A few more quick, searing kisses, and he pulled back. “What do we do now?”
I chuckled, relieved at his next question. “Honestly? I have no idea.”