Chapter 18 #3
Beside me, Timothy lay panting too, chest rising and falling fast as he stared up at the ceiling like he was trying to recover himself.
Then he turned toward me. Not rushed. Not triumphant. Just drawn to me like he couldn’t help it.
He brushed his mouth along my shoulder in slow kisses that felt almost unbearably tender after everything else. The softness of it hit harder than the desire had.
I went still beneath him. This was the dangerous part. Not the wanting. Not the way he could make my body unravel. It was this. The quiet after. The way his arm settled across my waist—heavy and warm and protective without ever feeling like a cage.
I stared at the pulse in his neck, still beating hard, and worked to gather my thoughts, but my brain refused to function properly with him kissing my skin.
My chest felt too full. My skin too sensitive.
My heart too awake. Beside me, he kept tracing absent-minded circles against my side like he already belonged there.
I chanced looking into the intensity in his gaze. Panic hit so hard it stole the air from my lungs.
He was the only person with the power to level every wall I’d built over the past year since my divorce. The walls were necessary to survive. What if he found out the truth about me? That I’d never be enough. That I couldn’t love hard enough. That I was hollow somewhere essential.
Justin’s words echoed in my mind. “No man will ever feel truly loved by you.”
What had I done?
Timothy deserved to be loved by someone that knew how to love the right way. He didn’t need me and my broken bits.
My chest cinched tight, breath coming thin and sharp. Heat flashed cold across my skin. My pulse hammered wildly, frantic and trapped, like something feral clawing at my ribs to escape.
“No…no, no…” I heard Timothy beside me. “Gia, don’t leave me. Not now.”
“I have to go.” The words came out ragged.
I practically launched myself from the bed, snatching up my clothes with shaking hands that suddenly didn’t feel connected to my body. Shirt. Bra. Jeans. Shoes. Find everything. Get dressed. Get out. Don’t think. Don’t look at him.
Most of all—
Don’t see the hurt on his face. If I saw it, I might stay. Staying would destroy me. Or worse—
I would destroy him.
He moved fast, stepping directly into my path while I dragged on my jeans and fumbled blindly with my bra clasp.
“Don’t do this.” His voice wasn’t angry yet. It sounded almost understanding. That somehow made it worse.
I laughed out a brittle, breathless sound, on the edge of breaking. “Don’t do what? Leave before your daughter wakes up? Before your family catches me sneaking out of your house like some dirty secret? Before I die of humiliation?”
His forehead creased. His breaths came unevenly when he reached for me—one hand sliding to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, firm and possessive and heartbreakingly gentle all at once. He tipped my face up until I had no choice but to look at him.
That look in his unwavering gaze…dark and conflicted, like he wanted to argue with every ugly thing I believed about myself and didn’t know where to start. The look was something raw enough to make my chest ache.
“I know what happened here,” he said, voice rough and low. His thumb stroked my skin despite the tension thrumming through him. “There’s a lot more here than either of us have ever had with someone else. It’s a lot. I get that. But, please, Gia…don’t run because you’re scared.”
My breath caught.
“This… Feeling like this…” His grip flexed slightly, not hurting, just grounding. Then he released me. “What’s between us is real. This is not a mistake.”
“I never said it was a mistake.”
“No?” he snapped, temper flashing hot beneath the hurt. “You’re looking at me like everything’s on fire and you’re running for the exit.”
His words hit too close to truth.
“I—” My throat closed. “I have to go.”
I pulled free and kept dressing, movements jerky and desperate.
A glance behind me showed him scrubbing both hands over his face before planting them on his hips. “Damn it, Gia.”
The curse cracked out of him, angry and ragged at the edges, like hearing me say those words had hit somewhere deep.
I still didn’t fear him. Not even a little. I feared myself. Feared how badly I wanted him. Feared how quickly he could become the center of me. Feared I’d ruin this beautiful thing with my broken pieces—
The best thing I could do was leave. I forced myself to turn and face him. “This was my fault.”
“There is no one at fault here. There’s you and there’s me and then there’s this. Something good. It’s something worth fighting to keep. Gia, please look at me.” He waited until I did. “I’m asking you to fight for this.”
My hands shook. Tears burned in my eyes. I was being stupid and selfish and every awful thing possible to this man who maybe still loved me.
Before I left, I whispered to him, “I don’t want to ruin you like I’ve ruined everyone else in my life. Something’s wrong with me. I can’t… I’ve been told I don’t know how to love enough. You’re incredible, and you deserve someone who knows how to give you everything.”