Page 83 of Heal Me, Love Me

“Don’t care.”

“You cared two seconds ago.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Before I remembered you leave tomorrow.”

Any smartass reply I had disappeared. He stayed facing me with his knee pressed into mine, and after a few seconds, I set my controller on the bed.

Keaton set his down too. “This is weird.”

“Being in here?”

“Being in here with you now.” His hand settled on my thigh, and the heat of his touch made my dick twitch. “This room has too many memories of wanting you, kissing you, and touching you. Now I’m sitting here pretending I’ll be okay watching you get on a plane tomorrow.”

I covered his hand with mine. “You can want me now.”

His eyes lifted to mine, and whatever answer he might’ve given vanished when I kissed him. His fingers dug into my thigh, and mine went into his hair as he scooted closer. The game kept running behind us, forgotten but still loud enough to cover the first sound he made against my mouth.

His hand moved to my waist, his fingers slipping beneath my shirt.

I caught his wrist. “Door.”

His eyes flicked toward it. “Your fault.”

“My fault?”

“You left it cracked.”

I stood, crossed the room, pushed it closed, and locked it just in case. When I turned back, he was watching me from the bed, the teasing gone from his face.

“What?” I asked, walking to the bed.

He shook his head. “The last two weeks went by so fast.”

“They did.”

His fingers caught the waistband of my sweats, pulling me closer. “I’m trying not to ruin tonight.”

“You’re not.”

“I might.”

“You won’t.”

He looked up at me, and I didn’t know what to do with how much he was trying to hold back because I was trying to do the same.

I glanced toward the door. “My parents are down the hall. So we have to be quiet.”

“I can be if you can.”

For two weeks, we’d been careful with each other, making jokes before anything got too serious and pretending neither of us was counting down the hours. Tonight, I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I wanted him, and I wanted to give him one last night that belonged to us, so I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

He reached for mine, and I lifted my arms for him to take it off. His palms moved over my chest and down my stomach, slower than they needed to, as if he was trying to take something with him before the distance got between us.

I let him have the time because he needed it, and if I was honest, so did I. Then I bent and kissed him. His mouth first, then his jaw, then the center of his chest as I eased him back onto the bed. His fingers slid into my hair when I kissed lower, and his hips lifted as I dragged his sweats down his legs and tossed them aside.