Page 87 of His Surrender

“You followed me.” It’s not really a question.

“No.”

The honesty catches me off guard.

I shake my head with a nervous laugh. “I don’t understand you.”

“I know,” he replies as he takes a step in my direction.

I can’t help but take in just how good he looks in just his boxer briefs. His stomach is like a work of art, each curve distinct.

“You barely spoke to me for two weeks.”

“I know.”

“You acted like I didn’t exist.”

“I know,” he answers without hesitation.

He doesn’t give any excuses or have a hint of defensiveness in his tone. He just gives quiet acceptance.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what happened,” I say as I bite my lip and look away.

His shoulders rise and fall with a slow breath. “So have I.”

I look down into my glass before meeting his eyes again. “That’s a terrifying answer.”

“It is.”

He sets his water bottle on the island before closing the distance between us. Each step seems to shrink the enormous kitchen until, suddenly, it feels like there’s nowhere left to run.

I don’t move—I can’t.

“I thought staying away from you would fix this.” His eyes never leave mine. “I convinced myself that if I quit talking to you”—he lets out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh— “eventually I’d stop.”

My breath catches. “Stop what?”

He’s only a couple of inches away as he looks at me. “Wanting you.”

The words settle somewhere deep inside me. Every confusing moment from the past two weeks suddenly feels different.

He wasn’t pulling away because he didn’t care. He was pulling away because he felt something … enough to scare him.

“I don’t want to keep pretending anymore.”

Neither do I.

The realization comes so quickly that it almost steals my breath. Without thinking, I arch my back, which closes the little space between us.

His eyes search mine, as if he’s giving me every opportunity to change my mind.

Instead, I stay exactly where I am.

He brushes his fingers up against my thighs on each side. My breath catches in my throat as my jaw falls slightly. My panties are instantly wet from the simplest of touches.

He drags them up, taking my shirt with them. He grabs my hips, scrunching my shirt with it, and pulls me flush against his body.

I feel his dick press against my stomach and nearly cry out from how good it feels.