He tilted his head, and his eyes roamed over my face before stopping on my eyes. “Where else would I be?”
“I thought you’d have run away screaming by now.” At his look of confusion, I tried to smile. “Haven’t you heard? Being my friend is bad for your health.”
“I thought I was more than a friend.” He gently pushed me backward into my bedroom.
“You are. So much more. Chay, I… I’m not sure how to say this, but when I told you I loved you, it wasn’t exactly the truth.” I grabbed his hand that rested on my shoulder and kissed his palm. “What I feel for you has to be more than love. No one has ever made me feel like you.” Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I looked at the floor. I thought he’d say something, but he remained silent. I took a shuddering breath. “I just wanted to tell you how happy you’ve made me the last few weeks, you know… just in case.” My gaze swept up to meet his.
“Don’t.” His fist hit the doorjamb, and I flinched. “Just don’t.” He looked to the side, his jaw working. “You’re talking like you’re giving up. Don’t you dare give up, Milayna. Don’t. You. Dare.”
I shook my head. “I’m not. I’m not giving up!”
“Then don’t tell me any type of goodbye.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t, but that was exactly what I’d been doing. So I nodded and squeezed his hand. “Good. Now that we have that settled, I want you to do something for me,” he murmured.
“Okay.”
He skimmed his hands up and down my arms before moving them up to cup my face. “I want you to hold on to something for me until this is over.”
“Chay, I’m probably not the best—” He let me go when I pulled away.
“I’ll want it back, so don’t get too attached. Take your sweatshirt off.”
“What?”
“Take your sweat—”
“I heard you, but there are people downstairs. Our parents are down there. I don’t think me and you playing striptease is gonna be their idea of appropriate behavior.”
He chuckled. “Just do it.”
I pulled off my sweatshirt and stood in just my bra, with my arms across my middle, shivering. My breath hitched in my throat when he reached behind his neck and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. My stomach did a weird sort of cartwheel and my heart, well, it wasn’t sure what to do.
Oh dear Lord, is he gonna take his clothes off, too? That’d be the best damn birthday present. Ever.
Disappointment flooded me. He wore a T-shirt underneath, but when he slipped out of his sweatshirt, it rose up and… wow… I was sure I forgot to breathe.
Damn, look at those abs. Can he be any more ripped? Breathe, I must remember to breathe. But, oh, is he screaming hawt. And if those jeans were any lower, I wouldn’t give a damn that my parents are downstairs.
“Lift up your arms,” he said. I just stared at him. “I’ve seen you in a swimsuit. Seeing you in a bra isn’t that much different. Although seeing you in a bra next to your bed is kinda killing me right now, so please lift up your arms.”
I did as he asked. He very gently lifted his sweatshirt, pulled it over my head, and held it while I slid my arms in the sleeves. He lifted my hair out of the collar before he placed his hand behind my neck and pulled me to him.
His mouth moved over mine; his velvet tongue dipped between my parted lips. He tasted slightly of apple cider and smelled of cinnamon and something all him. I sighed at the feel of him. He pulled me closer, kissing me deeper.
My fingers itched to run over his hard, muscled stomach. I moved my hands from his waist and slipped them under his shirt. My fingers grazed over his rippled abs and followed them to the tapered oblique muscles that dipped into the waistband of his jeans. He groaned and dropped his hands to my waist. He pulled me even closer to him, kissing me deeper still. When he lifted his head, we were both breathing hard and I was more than a little dizzy. It was pure bliss, a toe-curling kiss. The only kind he seemed to give—not that I was complaining or anything. The guy was a kissing god.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Yeah.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “Now listen, Milayna, this is very important.”
“Okay.”
“That’s my favorite sweatshirt.” He grabbed a handful of the front of the shirt and yanked me toward him. “I want it back in the morning. It’s only on loan for tonight.”
I let out a breath and a small laugh. “Okay. On loan. Got it.”
“I’m serious. I want it back two minutes after one tomorrow morning.” He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed my forehead.
I closed my eyes and squeezed back my tears.
***
For the next hour, I sat on the couch next to Chay, his arm protectively around my waist, his thumb rubbing my skin just above my jeans. I wrapped myself in his sweatshirt. I loved how it felt. So soft and warm. It was so big on me that it draped over me like a blanket. And it smelled like him. I’d bend my face forward and inhale his scent, fresh and outdoorsy. It calmed me.
At eleven thirty, I smelled sulfur.