Chapter 21 #2
Her breath catches in her throat.
The air between us sparkles with electricity. Sharp enough to raise goose bumps along my skin.
“I don’t know who I am when the cameras are gone.”
“Then let me be the place you find out.”
She shifts again, just enough that the movement pulls her closer to me.
Her thighs press against my hips, sending blood right to my cock.
My fingers tighten in her hair. Everything in me narrows to the shape of her mouth, the tremble in her breath, and the way her eyes search mine like she’s waiting for permission.
“That time upstairs…when we crossed the line. Do you think it was a mistake?” she asks, the question nearly knocking the air out of me.
“No,” I answer quickly, shaking my head. “You’re…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “You’re the first thing that’s ever felt as if you could wreck me and save me in the same breath.”
She looks at me with wide, glassy eyes. The ones that make me want to fix every crack in her even though some part of me knows she’s not mine to fix. Her hands fist in my shirt near my collarbone, knuckles brushing my skin, still holding on like she doesn’t know how to let go.
And god help me, I don’t know how to either.
I want to kiss her.
I want to take the fear out of her voice.
I want to make her forget anyone who’s ever made her doubt herself.
“Tucker…” she whispers, lips parted.
And something inside me snaps the second she whispers my name, like it’s both a question and an answer.
I lean forward before I can talk myself out of it.
Our noses brush, and she gasps—a tiny sound that nearly ruins me.
My thumb strokes slow circles beneath her ear, the other hand now pressing at her lower back to keep her close because if she pulls away now, I might come apart at the seams.
She closes the space between us, but freezes and pulls back again.
“Scottie…” I breathe.
“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath and attempts to get off my lap, but I grip both of her hips to keep her in place. “I’m sorry.”
“Explain to me what’s happening inside that head of yours.”
Her body relaxes, melting into my lap again. She places both hands on my shoulders, and I can’t tell if it’s her way of keeping herself at a safe distance or for me.
“If I let you in…I won’t know how to stop.”
It’s real—too damn real.
And real means dangerous.
I rest my forehead against hers, trying to breathe past the chaos in my chest.
“Then don’t fucking stop.”
Her breath hitches, and I feel it on my lips. She’s so close I feel like she’s testing just how weak my resolve really is.
“Then let’s stop pretending,” she adds.
Jesus Christ. Something that resembles a curse or a prayer slips out of me because she has no idea what she’s asking for. My hands move to cup both sides of her face, holding her there because she feels like the only thing keeping me steady.
“You’ve had a day, Scottie,” I manage, forcing the words out. “You’re tired and…your walls are down. I’m not going to take advantage of that.”
She blinks, confusion shifting into something like hurt as she looks down at the space between us, thinking I don’t want this.
She has no fucking idea.
I lift her chin slightly, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes.
“I want you.” I swallow. “Can’t you see it, Scottie?
I want you in a way that includes every version of you.
Especially the ones you think I’d run from.
” My thumb drags softly at her hip like I’m trying to anchor myself.
“In a way that makes me want to be good to you, careful with you, like you’re something holy. ”
Her lips part, not prepared for the truth to sound like that.
But she doesn’t pull away, not even a fraction.
“I want you in a way that ruins my ability to pretend with you anymore.”
“Tucker,” she says, barely audible.
“You think if you let me in, you won’t know how to stop.” I grip her hips tighter, pressing my forehead to hers. “But…now you know, I can’t fucking stop with you. I can’t breathe when we’re in the same room. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but want you in a way that scares the shit out of me.”
Painfully slow, I undo her fingers from my shirt and guide her off my lap, steadying her when her legs tremble. She stands in front of me, eyes searching mine, trying to understand the parts I don’t know how to say out loud.
If I kiss her again tonight, I stop pretending.
And once I stop pretending, I don’t know how to go back.
“I told you I’m not running from you, but you need sleep,” I say quietly.
She nods, but she continues watching me. Memorizing something about this moment before it’s gone.
“You said you can’t breathe when we’re in the same room.” She pauses, blinking once. “I hope you know you make it easier for me to breathe.”
I avert my gaze because I’m afraid of the look on my own face if I don’t. I’m afraid she’ll see that I believe her. I’m afraid she’ll know that she’s starting to matter too much.
I stand and step back, giving her space to climb the stairs to the loft. She hesitates for a second before going up, and I don’t move until she disappears inside. My muscles feel tight as I head back to the main house.
Inside, I kick off my boots and drop onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. Only then do I allow myself to breathe.
I want her.
I want her so badly it’s becoming a problem.
It makes me want to help ease some of this mess in her head. She’s stressed—worried about the timeline of things. That’s something I can help with.
I pull my phone out, staring at the blank screen for a good thirty seconds before opening my messages.
I don’t do this.
I don’t reach out for help.
I handle things on my own.
But after seeing how much of a mess she is over this and thinking about everything we still need to finish, I admit to myself something that feels a lot like surrender.
We need some help.
I click Griffin’s name and send him a text before I can talk myself out of it.
Me
I need your help.