I turned my back to the mirror I couldn’t see, rested my rear against the counter, and ran my fingertips under my eyes, wiping away the wetness.
“Please, baby, let me in.” Those words were whispered, and I thought I heard fear in them as well. I reached out and turned the lock. He must have heard it because the door slowly opened, light streaking into the bathroom. He opened it just far enough to get his body through, and then he closed it. When I heard the lock turn again, my breath caught in my lungs.
It was dark in the bathroom but I could still see him move to stand right in front of me, see his shadowed form come to a stop. His hand reached out and gripped my hip, my eyes closing at his touch even though I could see barely anything. I’d never experienced such conflicting emotions before. On one hand, I desperately wanted him to touch me, to soothe the ache inside of me, force me to focus on what his touch made me feel as opposed to the pain currently ripping through me. On the other hand, I knew, on some level, he shouldn’t have been touching me at all. I should push him away. I should tell him we couldn’t do whatever it was we were doing anymore.
But I simply wasn’t strong enough.
When I didn’t push away his first touch, he reached out with his other hand, both hands now on my waist. Slowly they moved toward my back, pulling me into him.
And I went.
Because I was weak.
We’d all lost so much, and losing Hayes would have been too much to bear.
When I was pressed against him, my hands wound around his waist, his hands moving into my hair, the tears didn’t stop and neither did the thoughts. So I spoke them. I let them have a voice.
“Our being together is going to hurt everyone around us, Hayes. If they ever found out, if your mom ever knew, it would break her. It’s wrong, Hayes. We’re wrong.”
“I know,” he whispered after a long pause. “But nothing has ever felt so right.”
I couldn’t argue with him.
His hands moved from my hair, down to the sides of my neck, and he leaned away from me. I opened my eyes and all I could see was the outline of his face, feel the warmth of his hands on my throat, the gentle stroking of his thumbs over my cheeks, still wet from tears. When his lips feathered over mine I didn’t try to pull away. I knew it was wrong, but that wasn’t reason enough to stop him. The way he kissed me, as if I could fall apart at any moment, as if he didn’t know whether his kiss would shatter me or hold me together, it made me love him that much more.
Good, bad, wrong, or right, I needed him to know.
“I love you,” I said against his lips between kisses. For seconds, the only thing I heard was the thundering of my pulse in my ears. “I don’t care if it’s wrong, it doesn’t make it feel any less real, any less true.” He was still quiet, his hands frozen in place on the sides of my face. Then they were quickly moved to my hips where he gripped me, picked me up, and placed me on the counter. My knees instinctively opened, and he immediately moved in between them. He was still so much taller than me, and even though it was pitch black, I still tilted my head up to look at him, knowing without a doubt he was looking down at me.
“You love me?” he asked, quickly followed by, “or you’re in love with me?”
I understood why he was asking, why he needed the clarification, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to reassure him.
“Every part of me is in love with you.” The words left my mouth just before his lips descended. The kiss was soft and slow, lingering, as if he wanted it to be branded there, to last forever, to mark me. My hands lifted to his stomach, sliding around, pulling him closer to me. With every second of the kiss that elapsed, the panic within me rose. His kisses, unlike any kiss I’d ever received, were limited. We had an expiration date, I could feel it. There was no way for this to last. Something would pull us apart, wedge between us, crack the foundation we were standing on, which was already broken when we climbed atop it. I pulled away just as a sob ripped out of me, climbing out of my chest.
“You know I’m in love with you, Kenzie. I love you so fucking much,” he said, holding my face to his chest as I cried. His hands pulled me into him, moving rapidly to make sure he got hold of all of me.
I didn’t answer him, couldn’t vocalize what I was thinking. It doesn’t matter how much we love each other; it’s all doomed anyway.
Chapter Eighteen
Hayes