I punch in his security code and open the door. His building is quiet. When the elevator opens on his floor, I almost lose my nerve and leave. He’s probably sleeping. He’s definitely trying to avoid what I’m going to ask him to do. This is such a bad idea on so many levels, and yet, right now, it seems like the most imperative action I’ve ever taken.
I stride down the hallway and knock on his door. I expect to have to wait minutes before he opens it, bleary eyed and half asleep. Instead, it opens within seconds, and he looks even more wired than I feel.
“Fuck, no,” he says, and for a second I think he’s going to shut the door in my face. “What the hell, Cassie?”
“What?”
“You’re here.”
“I know.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “You’re supposed to be at your place. Far away from me and sleeping. Preferably in an ugly flannel nightie.”
“Ethan—”
“Do you understand how hard I’ve fought to stay away from you tonight? I’ve been pacing around my living room for hours, trying to resist temptation. And now you show up here, looking like that?”
“Like what?”
He waves his hand at me. “Edible. Horny as hell. Fucking beautiful. Choose one.”
I take a step forward, but he holds his hand out to stop me. “No way. If you step into this apartment, all that talk tonight about us waiting, and your therapy, and blah, blah, blah, ‘We shouldn’t have sex’ will be out the window. You need to leave.”
I stop just as my toes touch the threshold. When I’d fantasized about telling him I was ready to be intimate, I’d anticipated him being a little more enthusiastic. I mean, I know he’s trying to do what’s best for me, but that was always the problem. He sucks at knowing what was best for me.
I take a tiny step. “Ethan, listen—”
He backs up. “Don’t do it. I really won’t be held accountable for my actions. It’s been three years, Cassie. Three fucking years. The things I would do to you…” He shakes his head. “You don’t even understand.”
“What if I do understand? What if I have things I want to do to you as well?”
He closes his eyes and drops his head back against the wall. “Jesus, seriously, with that comment?”
I step through the door and close it behind me.
He opens his eyes. “Cassie, we’ll undo everything.”
“I don’t care.” I put my hands on his chest. “I need this. And as you keep saying, so do you.”
“I don’t want to screw this up.”
I stroke his face. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You find the intimacy too confronting and panic. Shut me out. Shut our relationship down.”
I roll my eyes. “Who would do something like that?”
“I’m serious.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Do you forget that I’ve been exactly where you are right now? It might.”
“Ethan, I love you, but you really need to stop thinking so much.”
He freezes. Eyes wide. “What did you just say?”
I take a step back. “Uh … what I meant was—”
“You said you loved me.” His panic seems to have vanished.
“Yeah, I did, but—”
“You didn’t mean it?” He moves closer so he can stroke my cheek. “If you didn’t, it’s okay. Or if you did, and you’re not ready to admit it, that’s okay, too. Just … tell me.”
A strange sense of calm comes over me, and I remember something he said a couple of months ago: whether or not he loved me wasn’t dependent on a word. It was just fact, pure and simple. Even if I don’t say it, it’s true, so why bother denying it anymore?
“I meant it,” I say quietly. I expect to be hit by an anxiety attack, but instead all I feel is relief. Intense, long-overdue relief.
His smile is blinding. “Yeah?”
I take a deep breath and smile back. “Definitely.”
He stares at me with so much joy, I want to kiss him all over. Instead I pull his head down and settle for his lips.
The initial shock freezes us both in our tracks. This isn’t a stage kiss. No choreographed emotions filtered through our characters. This is us. The way we should be. The way I never thought we could be again.
We draw back, just a little, and stare at each other. We’re actually going to do this. After all this time.
I feel like I should be more nervous, but then I realize all of our moments have been leading us here. Even the painful ones.
I look for hesitation in him. Self-protection or second-guessing. Instead, I see concern for me and overwhelming love.
It’s more than enough.
It’s everything.
He cups my face. Kisses me harder. There’s a thrill of familiarity about what we’re doing but with a completely new edge.
The lust is still there, as knee-buckling as ever, but there’s something deeper. It winds through my body and anchors me to him. In the past, this soul-deep connection came and went in fleeting, infrequent moments, but now, it’s where Ethan lives.
I’m still terrified, but I want to live there with him.
Make him the first and last man I’ll ever have.
We keep kissing as we stumble down the hallway into the living room. I tug at his shirt, but he pulls back and tries to catch his breath. “We don’t have to go so fast.”
“You haven’t had sex in three years, and you want to slow down?”