“I love you.”
I kiss her neck.
“I love you.”
I kiss the swell of her breasts.
And then my hands are sliding down her body and I’m turning on top of her and I’m ravenous and starved for every bit of love I can possibly get.
We move in slow motion, through honey, and it’s slow and sweet. I pull down her underwear and push inside of her and she opens up to me like she’s letting me in for the first time. Her legs wrap around my waist like she’s never going to let go.
And I want to believe that she won’t let go.
That she’s not leaving me in two weeks.
I’m not sure the human heart is built to be so capable. How can it handle the joy of finally loving someone, the ecstasy of finally receiving love, while still being so fearful of the pain that’s yet to come?
Because that pain is coming.
How much longer can we ignore it?
“Stay with me,” I whisper to her as I thrust in deep.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says breathlessly, neck arched, head back. Such a bloody goddess.
But that’s not what I mean.
It doesn’t take me long to come and when I do, our eyes are locked and I feel myself slipping more and more and more. Into the past. Into the future. I’m losing myself completely and I just don’t know which way I’ll end up, if I’ll even be whole in the end.
I rest my weight on my elbows, my head down against the pillow while she gently touches my back.
“Stay with me,” I say again, voice rough with exertion. “Don’t go home.”
She tenses up beside me, her hands stilling at my shoulders. “Don’t go home?”
“Quit your job. Move here. Be with me.”
I can’t believe I’m even saying this to her but it’s too late now. She wants all of me, she’ll have all of me.
“Lachlan,” she says warily. “I can’t just do that.”
I pull my head back to look at her. “Why not?”
She frowns. “Because! I…I worked hard for the job I have.”
“You hate your job.”
“But it’s still my job. What would I do here? I can’t get a job.”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“Yeah but that’s easy for you to say. I’ve spent my whole life working for what I have, aren’t I supposed to stick with it? It’s crazy to give that all up.”
“That’s not what’s crazy. Crazy is never branching out, crazy is never living up to your potential, never discovering what it is in life that makes your heart beat just a bit faster. Kayla, who you are and who you think you should be are two very different things.”
She looks at me pleadingly. “Then who am I?”
“You’re you, love. And you know what you want to do. Jessica said she would help you with the writing.”
“Yeah,” she says. “For free. Writing for free. How do I live until my portfolio or whatever gets big enough to even get me a job?”
“I could – ”
She pushes her finger against my mouth. “And don’t tell me that you could support me. I know you can and you would, but I wouldn’t accept it. That’s not how I’m built. I do things on my own.”
I shake my head at her stubbornness. “I could help you be employed. You could work at the shelter, like Amara.”
“Amara says that you can barely afford to pay her,” she tells me and that makes me grimace, because I know that’s true. “You couldn’t afford me, too.”
“I could,” I tell her. “My flat in London, I would sell it if I had to.”
“No, no way. No way would I let you do that for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m…you barely know me. I’m not worth it.”
I sigh, my eyes pinching shut. “Please don’t say that. Don’t say that I don’t know you when all I do is feel like I’ve known you my whole bloody life. Don’t give me that and don’t tell me you’re not worth it. That’s up to me to decide, isn’t it?”