Chapter 40
Tabitha wiped another tear from her flushed, wet cheek, but didn’t try and hold her tears back. She wanted Miles to see her once again in a moment of truth and vulnerability. Wanted him to know her apology was sincere. To share her fears and regrets.
Needed him to know she trusted him.
“Thank you for saying that,” Miles finally said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Earlier, I told you I was still pissed. And that was the truth. But that anger isn’t directed at you. Not all of it, anyway. It hasn’t been directed fully toward you since that morning I drove you home when I began to realize you were right. About so many things. Especially about what you deserve. I’m still pissed, yes, but mostly I’m pissed about what happened. And I’m pissed at myself for letting it happen. For letting us get to that point where you thought you had no other choice but to walk away. Where you thought nothing between us could be saved.”
Sitting up so she could face him more fully, she laid her hand on his cheek. “Miles, you can’t save everyone. You can’t fix everything.”
“Maybe not, but I can still try.” He covered her hand with his. “I have to try.”
“I know you do. But what if trying isn’t enough?”
“What do you mean?”
“We keep fucking up with each other. What if one day, one of us fucks up so badly there’s no fixing it?”
“I’m not asking for any promises or guarantees. I’m not even asking for forever. All I’m asking for is a chance to see this through. To see where we can go, if anywhere, as the people we’ve become. And if one of us does make a mistake, I’m asking for the chance to discuss it. For us to decide, together, how to move forward.”
She liked how that sounded. Working with him toward a common goal.
Yes, she liked that a lot.
“I’ve never done this before,” she whispered. “Not this way. I’ve always held something back. Have always hid parts of myself. I’m not sure I’ll be good at it.”
He smoothed a piece of damp hair back from her face, then cupped the back of her head. “You’re doing great so far. Teaching me a thing or two, that’s for sure. Things like bravery. Perseverance. Forgiveness.”
Her heart thudded painfully against her chest. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“I forgive you,” he said, and a few more tears fell, released by the truth she saw so clearly in his eyes. “I forgive you for sneaking out of my bed that morning. I forgive you for accusing me of inappropriate behavior, and for keeping the truth from me about why you were in Mount Laurel.”
Good. That was good.
But she needed more. She needed him to forgive her for what happened ten years ago.
If he didn’t, if he couldn’t, nothing they did would be enough to make this work.
“And the rest?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I told myself I would never forgive you for that.”
She felt her face drain of color, her cheeks going stiff and cold. But when she tried to slide off his lap, he tightened his hold on her head, his other arm capturing her around her waist and keeping her close.
“When you left… it crushed me.”
His words were quiet. Simple.
Raw.
Guilt and regret churned in her stomach, sickening her.
She’d hurt him. She’d known that. But she’d run from him, leaving without a word so she wouldn’t have to face it.
Until now.
More tears fell. Her lower lip trembled. “Miles—”
“It crushed me,” he repeated softly, but not unkindly, more like he was stating one of his truths that was long overdue. “But I didn’t want to admit it. And I sure as hell didn’t want to feel the pain that came with it. It was easier to be furious at you. To blame you fully for everything that went wrong between us. So I told myself I would never forgive you. That I would never put myself in the position to be hurt like that again.”
Cupping her face in both hands, he wiped her tears away with his thumbs, his gaze holding hers, steady and earnest. “But I was wrong. I was wrong not to tell you about my parents. I was wrong and selfish not to tell my family about you. I was wrong to blame you for what happened between us instead of accepting my share of the responsibility. And I was wrong to think I could never forgive you. Because I do. I forgive you. I just hope that maybe, someday, you might forgive me, too. Not just for the mistakes I made ten years ago, but for how I treated you that night at The Cockeyed Chameleon. For the things I’ve said and done since you moved to Mount Laurel.”
“Of course, I forgive you.” She circled her fingers around his wrists. Squeezed gently. “For everything.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that. No one’s perfect, Miles. Not even you. And no one who cares about you wants or expects you to be.”
He shook his head. “Toby said the same thing. But making mistakes is dangerous. If I make one on the job, someone could get hurt. Or killed. Making a mistake with my family is just as risky. What if they can’t forgive me? I can’t lose anyone else.”
“That is a frightening thought. But it seems to me you’re not giving them enough credit. And you’re not giving yourself nearly enough grace. Maybe it’s not your family who needs to forgive you. Maybe it’s that you need to forgive yourself.”
“I don’t know how,” he admitted, sliding his hands out from beneath hers and scooping his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I deserve anyone’s forgiveness. Even my own.”
“You do. But it’s okay if you don’t believe that quite yet. If you want, we can work on it together.”
He gaze softened. “I’d like that. But in the theme of us being honest, I’m not sure I deserve your help, either. Or your kindness and forgiveness.” Lowering his hands, he wrapped them around her waist and pulled her closer. “And I sure as hell don’t deserve a second chance. But I’ll be damned if I’m giving you up. Not ever again.”
She liked the sound of that. But while she’d managed to share some of her thoughts with him in this safe space on his lap, it was hard for her to share all of them.
Felt impossible for her to trust her feelings.
It didn’t matter how badly she wanted to tell him what was in her heart, she couldn’t give him everything. And while she knew she was safe with him, a part of her still didn’t believe it.
She was still holding something back.
And she hated that. Hated her doubts and fears. How weak she was against them.
But she wasn’t running. She was sitting here, feeling him strong and steady and warm beneath her thighs. She wasn’t running, and she was going to take that as a win.
And remind herself that just because she was weak, didn’t mean she couldn’t get stronger, a little at a time.
Didn’t mean she couldn’t move closer to who she was meant to be. Closer to what she wanted.
A future with him.
***
Miles wondered if he’d said something wrong.
It was the only reason he could think of that Tabitha would be silent for so long, her gaze contemplative and a little sad.
But when he was about to open his mouth to apologize for whatever he’d said to put those doubts in her eyes, she suddenly leaned forward and kissed him, a soft, lingering press of her mouth to his. His cock twitched, but he tamped down the surge of desire. This wasn’t the time for him to get a hard-on for Christ’s sake.
But it didn’t seem to matter that he’d come an hour ago or that he and Tabitha were at the tail end of a serious conversation.
When it came to her, his greedy asshole of a dick was always ready for more.
Especially when she wore his shirt and was naked underneath it.
She kissed him again. And again. Slid the tip of her tongue along his lower lip like she’d done in her kitchen.
But unlike then, he kept his mouth shut.
He wanted to open for her. He wanted, more than anything, to stab his hands into her hair, tip her head back and take over. He wanted to take and take and take from her until the tightness in his chest eased. He wanted to empty out anything, everything, that wasn’t her—his anxiety and guilt and fears.
But the last time he’d let her kiss him like this, he’d ended up choking her with his dick.
And he was trying hard not to go back to his selfish asshole ways.
She smiled against his mouth. “Do you not want me to kiss you?” she murmured, tone as light and teasing as her kisses had been.
He gripped the back of her neck, needing to keep her close, unable to tell her anything except the truth. “No. I do. I like it when you kiss me first.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, reading him clearly. “You said you wouldn’t ask me for any promises, but I’m going to give you one. I promise I won’t walk away again like I did before. I promise that if there’s ever a time I want to leave, I’ll tell you first. I’ll give you a chance to try and fix it.”
His chest swelled, filled with warmth and gratitude. “Thank you.”
Her promise meant more to him than her apology did. Because it was given freely. Because she’d never made him any promises before.
Because he trusted her to keep it.
Her nod was solemn, her smile serene. “Now, will you let me kiss you?”
His answering grin, on the other hand, was all smirk. He dragged his thumb up her throat, pressing it under her chin, forcing her head back. “Say please.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Please.”
His smirk grew right along with his cock. What could he say?
He fucking loved it when she was his good girl.
“Yes,” he told her, all benevolence and kindness. “You may kiss me.”
But instead of taking what she’d asked for, she pressed gently against his chest. “Lean back.” Still smirking, he did as she asked, but she wasn’t done. “Stretch your arms along the back.”
Eyebrows lifted, he raised his arms, settling them straight out along the back of the sofa. And realized this was the same way he’d sat that first night at his house. When he’d given her orders like a king on a throne.
When she’d obeyed him so prettily.
Wiggling to get more comfortable, smile widening, he opened his mouth, but his first command died in his throat when she placed her hands on his shoulders, sat up, then swung her left leg over his thighs, his shirt riding up to expose her bare hip before she straddled him.
His breath caught and he started to lower his arms, his fingers twitching with the need to slide under his shirt, to feel her skin, but she shook her head and clamped her fingers around his forearms, holding his arms still.
“I want to take care of you,” she told him, her voice husky, her expression almost painfully earnest. “Please let me. Let me make you feel good.”