Page 101 of The Time It Takes
“I don’t want you to have to make sacrifices—”
“I’ll sacrifice anything for this.” He squeezes my uninjured thigh. “I’d give up everything else, but not you—never you again.” He grabs a tube of Neosporin. He squeezes it directly onto my leg and smears it around with an applicator. The cut isn’t anywhere as bad as I thought it was. I got lucky.
I watch his hands work in finesse as he wraps the gauze around my thigh.
“I still want you to think about it,” I tell him once he finishes.
He looks at me with furrowed brows. I clarify, “I’m done running and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I want this. I just want you to make sure you’re certain of it too. There’s no need to rush into anything.”
Oliver nods solemnly but with so much understanding. We went back to us at full speed and we both need to stop and evaluate the situation a little better. I can be impulsive and that’s how I tend to make mistakes. I want to do this right with him.
He reaches up to cup my face, smiling sadly. “You’re right. There’s no rush.”
“One day at a time?”
“One day at a time,” he agrees.
We stare at each other like our eyes are opposite poles of a magnet. The heat from his palm on my thigh makes me all too aware of how close he is.
“Hmm,” he hums with a slight frown, cupping my face.
I stroke the back of his hand with my thumb. “What is it?”
A sinful look grows in his eyes as he places himself in between my legs, carefully avoiding my wound. He leans into me, his lips brushing against mine. “Does that mean we can’t do this?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. He brings his index finger and runs it across my bottom lip, and then down the front of my body. When he reaches my bikini bottoms, his finger dips underneath the fabric. I gasp and it earns me the sound of a raspy laugh. He exhales soft breaths across my cheek and down my neck. When his lips graze my collarbone, a moan accidentally leaves my lips.
When I push him away, he smiles.
“We need clear heads for this. The thinking, I mean.”
“Whatever you say, Damsel," he murmurs.
I hop off the counter and press my hand to the spot on his chest where the butterfly tattoo is. “There are still some things we need to talk about, but I need some time to figure out how to say them to you.”
His face softens as he reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Whatever it is, I know you’ll tell me when you’re good and ready.”
He has no idea how much I needed him to say those words to me. Oliver is everything. He’s the gravity that continues to balance me while also having the potential to come crashing down and ruin me entirely.
“Ollie,” I whisper.
“I thought you said—”
I shake my head, licking my lips as I stare at his. “I know what I said, and it still stands,” I tell him. His eyes glaze, darkening with promise. “But I want you to do something for me first,” I say, keeping my voice low.
He leans down so that our lips almost touch, obviously picking up what I’m throwing down. “Anything,” he murmurs.
Then I speak the words I told him all those years ago. “I want you to kiss me until it hurts.” I feel his smile spread against my lips and I know he also remembers that night. “Kiss me until I can’t stand to put my lips on anyone’s but yours.”
When his lips meet mine, I’m nothing but stardust and illusion. We’re infinite. When he kisses me like this, I think of things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Like forever and happy endings. The kiss is soft and warm. Our lips tangle slowly and it’s hypnotizing. It makes me wonder why I left. We could have been doing this for ten years.
I should end this now, but I don’t. When he presses in closer to deepen the kiss, I let him. I let him because I can’t lose him. I need him to want me as this version of myself before I take it all away.
Later, I decide.
Later, I’ll tell him the truth about why I left and could never find the courage to come back.
Chapter Twenty
