Glimpses and glances—windows into the world of just how desperately she loved me, the same world I’d been hiding from her.
“You didn’t make it impossible. You were trying to make things better by pushing me to admit what I was afraid of.” I brushed back her hair, my body hardening, heating. My mouth watering, tingling.
Our lips drew closer still, magnets intent on connecting.
A new kind of energy crackled around us—just as dangerous and potent, but this time, it was passion, not rage.
Passion I never believed I was permitted to feel around her.
Passion I never thought I could earn.
I basked in it, loving the spark and sizzle of her body pressed against mine. Of the wondrous anticipation of where this was going, the build-up of seventeen years of living in each other’s pockets, of being each other’s everything, of finally coming full circle from friends to possibly more.
More than I could ever deserve.
The first graze of mouths was barely there. A whisper of touch. A kick of taste. But my heart ran away, galloping and pounding as wild as our shared surname and just as feral.
Della jerked in my arms, sucking a shaky breath. Her legs squeezed around my waist, her arms twitching around my neck. “Ren?”
My eyes were too heavy to keep open. They went half-mast. My body aching. My mind messed and incoherent. “Yeah?”
“I want to kiss you.”
I licked my lips, groaning beneath my breath. “Yeah, me too.”
“But…you need to know something.”
The back of my neck strained with pressure, desperate to press my mouth to hers and devour any more words. I no longer wanted conversation. I wanted something so much less innocent that damn conversation. “What do I need to know, Della Ribbon?”
She shivered as I ran my fingers up her naked spine and ducked to press a kiss on the very same collarbone that had tormented me for most of my life.
Old memories crackled like ancient TV channels, overlapping the Della I had in my arms with the baby I’d carried in my backpack.
I jerked and shoved the disgusting comparison away, doing my best to silence the voice hissing that this was wrong. That I had no right. No permission.
“You kiss me,” she murmured, her back bowing, pressing more of her skin into my mouth. “And that’s it. There’s no going back. No way I can stop loving—”
I didn’t let her finish.
My arms banded tighter, and my chin arched up.
And I kissed her.
Hard.
Deep.
Wet.
Long.
I kissed her for all the nights I’d wanted to kiss her but couldn’t.
I kissed her for all the years I’d needed her but daren’t.
And she kissed me back.
Just as hard, deep, wet, long.
Her taste.
Her softness.
Jesus Christ.
She moaned into me, her tongue darting out and licking mine. Her body writhing on my lap, her weight and movement rubbing against the rigid hardness in my jeans.
I wanted so fucking much to shove aside my clothing and consummate this newfound acceptance. I wanted to propose to her and marry her and never let her go again.
But as our kiss turned from exploration and newness to uncivilised grinding and gasping, the same crackling, snowy memories came back.
Of Della laughing as I cannonballed naked as a fifteen-year-old into the lake.
Of Della crying when she was stung by a bee and my seventeen-year-old self sucking out the stinger and kissing her wound all better.
Of Della reading aloud the sex education book when I was eighteen and just as lost as I’d ever been, finally realising that she was so far above me I could never get her back.
Boom, boom, boom.
Reminder, reminder, reminder.
I tore my lips from hers and shot up.
Twisting sharply, I placed her on the bed and yanked out of her embrace before her eyes had fully opened and her lips fully noticed they were no longer being kissed.
“What?” Her eyes instantly filled with blue terror. “Ren…no.” She scrambled to her knees. Naked as the day she’d torn off her dress and forced me to see that she was no longer a virgin. No longer untouched. “Don’t do this. You promised.”
I backed away, pinching the bridge of my nose, unable to stop the torrent of recollections.
Of Della riding Cassie’s horse for the first time and falling off.
Of Della giggling at something Patricia said only to stop laughing when I went in hearing distance.
Of Della watching me with a heart-stealing look as I chopped firewood shirtless.
Della.
Della.
Della.
Always there, always mine, and now, I didn’t know how to separate past from future.
“I-I—” I balled my hands, forcing myself to look her in the eye. “I want you, Della. You know that now, and I have no intention of lying to you. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you. But right now…right now, I need to work through this, okay? Can you give me time? Can you understand how hard this is for me?”
She stood, fumbling for her towel and holding it as a barricade in front of her. “I understand because it’s hard for me, too. Don’t you think I have the same memories? Of you kissing Cassie? Of you younger and softer and nothing more than an uncomplicated farm boy who made me fall in love with a single smile?”
I held up my hand. “I know this is unfair, but our situations are nothing alike.”
“They’re everything alike.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly, scolding her like a child when, only seconds ago, I’d been kissing her like a man. What role did I play in her life anymore? Disciplinarian or partner? Father or husband? “They’re not alike. At all.”
Stalking to the door, I wrenched it open before saying softly, “I raised you, Little Ribbon. In my heart, I hold so many elements of love for you. I’ve fed you from my own fingers. I’ve washed your body. I’ve held you tight while you cried. I know we aren’t siblings, but somewhere along the way, I did love you as a brother. I need to untangle that love before I can move on as…as—”
“As my lover?”
I winced. “Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to be? This isn’t just you running away again?” Her eyes sparkled with another wave of unshed tears.
I hated that I’d let her down all over again, but I wouldn’t be honest with her if I didn’t tell her how hard this would be. How difficult I found it separating all the Della’s I knew, and somehow learn to allow myself to love all of them after she’d been off-limits for so long.
But I also knew if we were going to do this, we couldn’t do it here.
We couldn’t do this where people knew us as relatives.
We couldn’t do this where we might be caught.
“Do you still have the same phone number?” I asked, my fingers clutching the doorknob, holding myself in place, stopping me from running back to her and shoving her down on the bed.
From this distance, all I wanted was her, but I knew the moment I touched her my world would shatter, and I’d drown beneath memories determined to make me vomit for taking a sweet, innocent girl and turning her into something sick with want.
“Yes.” She hung her head. “But I won’t be here when you get back. I have to go back to David’s. I only came here to burn that.” She arched her chin at the scattered forgotten papers, trodden and crumpled on the floor.
My chest ached at the thought of her going back to him, but I had no choice. “Don’t burn it. And give me a few hours. I’ll text you, okay?”
She looked up, forlorn and afraid but resilient just like I knew her to be. “A few hours? I thought you were going to say a few days.”
I smiled sadly. “I’ve wasted more than enough days not having you. I have no intention of wasting anymore.”
She smiled, wider than before. “Okay, I can accept a few hours.”
“Thank you.” My eyes drank her in, imprinting this Della, the new Della into my mind first and foremost as I backed out the door, promising, “I’ll be in touch. And when I do…we’re going to talk. You’re going to help me understand that there was no other path for us. That it was always going to be this way. That we were always meant to be. And then…we’re going to leave.”
I didn’t wait for her reply.
I had some soul searching to do.
I had some compartmentalizing to sort.
And I needed to do it now.