Page 295 of Faking the Goal

"About the other night..." He eases some of his weight off me but doesn't move away. Instead, he reaches up and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Shouldn't we talk about it?"

Which is impressive timing, really, because apparently my face hasn't suffered enough.

Heat surges up my throat all over again, somehow making me even redder than I already am. At this point, my freckles have probably surrendered and evacuated entirely.

"Yeah..." I mumble. "We probably should."

I knew he wanted to talk about it yesterday. I could tell by the way he kept hovering near me, starting to say something and then stopping whenever someone else walked into the room. But Caroline had practically kidnapped me before he got the chance.

The playful tension from a moment ago changes almost instantly. It's still there, humming beneath my skin, but now it feels heavier. More fragile. The kind that makes me suddenly aware of every breath I take and every place his body is touching mine.

I swallow.

"I know it was just, uh..." My voice catches, and I glance away from him. "Sex—"

Kentaro presses one finger gently against my lips, stopping the word before I can finish.

"It wasn't just sex, Trouble." His confidence falters for the briefest second, and he lowers his hand. "At least, it wasn't for me. But if that's all it was for you—"

"It wasn't."

The answer leaves my mouth before he can even finish the sentence.

The thought of him believing otherwise makes my stomach sink.

"It wasn't just that for me either."

His finger falls away from my mouth, but he stays right where he is, his body still hovering over mine. He only watches me, waiting, while I try to untangle everything knotted inside my chest.

Because yes... part of me had been desperate that night.

I had wanted something—anything—strong enough to quiet the horrifying memories, even if only for a little while. I had wanted to close my eyes without seeing Charlie's face. I had wanted to feel someone's hands on me without my body dragging me back to that bedroom all over again.

But I hadn't asked Kentaro because he happened to be there.

I had asked because it was him.

And I knew the difference, because I had slept with other guys after what happened to me as a child—long before those memories ever came back. With them, it had always been just sex. Nothing more. They got my body, and that was where it ended. They never got close enough to see the parts of me I spent my entire life hiding from everyone. I never let them.

Kentaro was the first person I couldn't do that with.

Because without even realizing it, he'd slipped past every wall I'd spent years building. He had seen me at my worst—terrified, angry, stubborn, grieving, completely falling apart—and somehow, instead of making me want to retreat, it only made me want to stay. That night, I hadn't wanted another meaningless distraction I could pretend never happened. I had wanted his arms around me. I had wanted his voice telling me I was okay. I had wanted the quiet way he looked at me, like he was asking for every piece of me instead of taking anything I wasn't ready to give.

"Then what was it?" he asks softly when I take too long to find the right words.

I swallow around the lump in my throat.

"It could never have been just sex for me, Ken-chan. It was more than that." I pause, gathering the courage to say the rest. "I need you to know I didn't ask you to sleep with me that night just because I wanted to use you to make the pain go away."

I hold his gaze, needing him to see that I mean every word.

"I asked you because you're the only person I trusted enough to see me like that." My voice trembles, but I make myself keep going. "With you, I don't feel like a broken thing being handled carefully out of pity. I feel wanted without being possessed. Safe without being made weak."

For several seconds, he only stares at me.

Then his hand finds the side of my face, his thumb brushing slowly over my heated cheek.

"You have no idea what hearing that does to me," he murmurs.