Page 68 of When You Stayed
Royce.
I hadn’t heard anything from her since she left my house the night prior. Since I’d kissed her and handed her the most vulnerable confession that I had ever written down on paper. I wouldn’t be admitting that I had stayed up way too late, waiting to see if she’d text me. Well, that was until Connor messaged me and told me that he’d been with her.
Old jealousies had poured into my chest cavity like acid when he told me he’d gone to see her and warned her about me. Connor was a good guy, wanted me to know what he told her, which apparently wasn’t much, other than to be careful with me because I wasn’t being honest with her. Which, he wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t have any choice in that matter.
Heaving in a huge breath, I jogged up the steps and yanked on the door.
There, sitting in my chair was Royce. Her feet were on my desk, her motorcycle boots had pink laces woven through the loops, and the tops gaped, being loosely tied. She had on leather riding pants and a pink tank top that was snug under a leather jacket. For two seconds I thought of my name stretching across the back of that leather, telling anyone who saw that she belonged to me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, setting my phone and water down. I acted like I wasn’t watching her every move, but I examined her glossy lips slide into a smirk. She lifted her feet and let them swing down to the floor. She moved around the desk and then perched on the edge of it, right in front of me.
“I read the card.”
Well, fuck. We were jumping right into it. My heart didn’t seem tounderstand the difference between the way her voice tilted while saying that and someone holding a gun to my head. It was hammering dangerously fast against my ribs while I slid a stick of gum into my mouth.
Lifting my brow, I turned toward her. “’Bout time.”
Her eyes shone with anger. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What the fuck do you want me to say, Royce?”
She shoved off the desk and was now toe-to-toe with me. Her forehead came to my chin, so I was able to smell that hint of roses that lingered against her skin and in the strands of her hair. “How about that you’re sorry.”
A scoff worked up my throat. “For what?”
Her brows hit her hairline as she began her incredulous tirade. “For writing that, for feeling that way, and never doing anything about it. For letting me be with Connor when all that time it could have been you. Six years, Ford. It’s been six years since Connor and I broke up, and you haven’t done a damn thing about it. You haven’t tried to talk to me or come to me. You said you loved me, and I call bullshit.”
Her hair was in loose curls, bouncing against her chest as she waved her hands, and her face grew pink. I knew I should apologize and tell her how I’d fucked up, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss her.
“Royce”—I let out a sigh—“you broke my heart. I loved you when I was a kid and a teenager, but it transitioned into this toxic thing. I wouldn’t call it hate, but I resented you. I got really good at shoving my feelings for you inside of a box.”
Her head tilted, gaze narrowing. “Well, I stole that box back. So, you can use those masculine balls I’m sure you have and tell me how you feel now because I’m not going to start falling for you again if you secretly hate me and want nothing to do with me.”
I checked my watch. I had exactly zero minutes available for the conversation, but, fuck.
Grabbing one of my hardhats, I placed it in her hands.
“What are you—” She sounded perplexed.
I lifted my arms wide, feeling a slip of all the crazy obsession in mychest that was leaking out. “I named my fucking construction business after you, Royce.”
She seemed confused as she checked the hat then the wall behind me. “You call me Rose.”
My arms dropped. “To your face. In my head, you’re Wild Rose. You’re one of the most beautiful things that can be found in the wild. You can survive in the most unbearable of environments, something that shouldn’t grow but does. It’s the rose that was here long before the dolled-up version sold in stores, the one limited to bushes and thorns. A wild rose isn’t held back by any of those things. That’s you, Royce.”
Her mouth parted on a silent gasp while her eyes grew moist. On a shuddered gasp, she said, “Fuck you, Ford.”
“What?” I growled.
She slammed the hardhat down on the desk beside her then her hand shot out and she slapped me in the chest. “Fuck you and your beautiful words. Fuck you and your Christmas card.” She slapped me again as tears slid down her face. “Fuck you and that box you hid inside. Fuck you and?—”
I slid my hand into her hair and pulled her against me. Our mouths met in a heated rush while her fingers wound tightly into my hair. She kissed me back while her tongue slid against mine, and it was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to me. I didn’t even know if I was doing it right, I hadn’t lied when I said I hadn’t kissed anyone else aside from her. I’d drunkenly fucked before, but never kissed. No one but her, that one day when I was ten, and it was on the side of her face.
I cradled her jaw, trying to savor the taste of her when she tilted her head in a different direction, which somehow managed to deepen the kiss. Shit, it felt good. She was petal-soft and tasted as good as she smelled. I wanted to drown in her, every single sensation and every single breath against my mouth.
“More, I need more—” She broke away on a gasp. I didn’t allow her to stay gone for long as I pulled her back, a rumble vibrating in my chest. I lifted her hips and set her down on the edge of my desk then notched myself between her parted thighs. My hand slid up her back, holding her tight to my chest. Her hair was so silky, and her skin sosoft, but I wanted to touch more of it. My senses were overloaded as I held her jaw and tilted her face up.
I thought back to all the times when I’d seen her kiss Connor, and I’d imagine what it would feel like if she were kissing me. I’d see the way she moved, and I’d wonder if she’d ever be that reactive to me. From the sounds she was making, I could confidently say she was. She couldn’t stop touching me, my biceps, my forearms, and my hair.
