Page 78 of Worth the Try
My pulse kicks up. I know what he’s referring to, but I ask anyway. “That I can’t have kids?”
His chin dips slightly in confirmation, then his eyes dart to my neck and chest as I take a huge breath. “It’s okay, Elle,” he says quietly.
I nod, more to myself than anything. “I know.”
He takes my hand in his. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
I clear my throat. “It’s fine.” It’s not fine. It’s not even close to fine.
Because I amterrified.I don’t know what possessed me to blurt it out when I did. I was just…ravenous. And I clearly wasn’t thinking. But I gather the reserves of strength that seem, remarkably, to keep going, and clutch it to me. I meet his eyes. His kind, beautiful eyes.
“It’s,” I start, then stop.Breathe. “It’s what I said. I can’t have kids. There’s nothing wrong with me, not anything that doctors can pinpoint, but, um.” I break off, swallowing. “My ex and I. He’d wanted kids early, before we got married, so when nothing happened naturally, we both got tested. He was fine. I…wasn’t. We never went down IVF. It all—we—went downhill pretty fast after that. It just…wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”
I reach for my drink and take a giant sip, reveling in the cold liquid while I take stock of myself.I’m still here. But I’m not the one I need to worry about. It’s the man in front of me. What if he thinks I’m just as pathetic as Jeremy did?What if he rejects me just like my mother?
I tilt the glass back, finishing the drink off before finally steeling myself to meet his eyes.
And there, looking back at me, is everything I could ever hope for. His caramel brown eyes are filled with understanding, sorrow, acceptance. He puts his hand on the strip of couch between us, palm up. A gesture of comfort.
I press my palm to his, and he threads our fingers together.
Finally, he speaks. “I love you.”
I blink. I didn’t hear him correctly.
“It’s probably not the right time to tell you that,” he says. “In fact, it may be the absolute worst time. But I do.” He blows out a breath, then gives me a smile.
God, thatsmile. It’s bright and beautiful, lighting up his face in a way I have never seen before. My heart cracks wide open yet again, growing so broad and deep that the only thing to fill it—the only person in the world who could possibly fill it—is the man beaming at me. “I love you, Elodie Cole. And you don’t have to say anything back. In fact, please don’t. But I?—”
I cut him off, palming his cheeks and rising onto my knees as he pulls me onto his lap. Then I kiss the hell out of him. His arms band around me, strong and sure, pulling me as close to him as we can get. I bite back a sob, then a laugh, still kissing him. Utterly unable to get hold of my emotions. Impossible to grab onto any one thing as they swirl and eddy around me.He loves me.
He loves me.
Helovesme.
In seconds, the kiss turns desperate, needy. As if both of us are too full of feeling and need it out. I keen into his mouth, and he hisses in response. “Baby,fuck.”
I pull away, yanking his glasses off and tossing them to the side before clawing his shirt. “Skin.” I lean back, giving him room to reach behind his neck and yank the shirt off in one smooth motion. I stare as he moves, his tan muscles ripplingin the light, before leaning back to kiss him. My hips writhe, grinding on his lap.
He rips his mouth from mine and gasps. But before he can say a word, my hands are already at the waistband of his shorts, Godblessthese mesh shorts and how easy they slide down. And then his hands are moving up my thighs and into my shorts.
He curses, then grinds out, “You aren’t wearing anything under here.”
“No,” I pant, desperate.
In one swift move, he plunges a finger into me, and I gasp. His eyes are bright, watchful, as a second finger joins in.
I move a hand behind his neck to brace myself. “I want?—”
“Tell me,” he says, his voice raw. “Tell me.”
“I want your cock,” I breathe out.
His grin is feral. “Good girl,” he groans, pulling his fingers out. While I watch, he brings them up to his mouth and sucks them in, slowly, his eyes closing as the taste of me hits his tongue. He moans, then meets my eyes again as he pulls them out, licking them clean.
I whimper. “That’s so fucking sexy.”
His answering smile is blinding. “God, I love it when you cuss.”
