A Cosmic Kind of Love(72)

A whole mix of emotions filled me—embarrassment, indignation, hurt—and I took a few steps back toward his front door. “But . . . my emails kept bouncing. You . . . made me think I wasn’t sending them to anyone. I thought— I said some really personal things on there.”

Remorse made his features haggard, and he took a pleading step toward me. “I know. I can’t explain the instant pull I felt toward you, Hallie. I can’t explain what it was like. I just knew that I wanted to be in your world a little longer, and I thought if you realized someone was watching, you would stop. It is the single most dishonest thing I’ve ever done, and I have no good excuse for it. Your videos just made me feel less alone.”

Like his videos had made me feel less alone.

Oh my God.

He had kept this from me, but I was a hypocrite if I couldn’t forgive him for watching the videos.

I nodded slowly, my head spinning. “Right. Okay. So we did that to each other. I can’t be mad at you for doing to me what I did to you . . . but, Chris, I confessed to you. Right away. Before we were even friends. You’ve kept this from me for weeks, and you decide to tell me now?”

He took another step forward. “You said at Darcy’s party that you didn’t think you could forgive someone doing that to you.”

“I didn’t mean it.” I threw my hands up in exasperation.

“I thought you did. And I thought that it would be better if I told you the truth once you’d gotten to know me. Once you knew that I would never maliciously keep this from you.”

“Why tell me right now? When we’re about to . . .” I gestured vaguely between us.

“I want you,” Chris said gruffly. “So much. I wanted you from that very first video diary you sent. That’s why I was afraid to tell you the truth because I didn’t want to lose you before I even got the chance to really know you. It was wrong. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t take this further between us without telling you. I would never do that.”

I considered his words. Considered the truth. And while my cheeks still burned at the thought of Chris knowing all my private thoughts, I realized I’d told him everything I’d said in those diaries all over again to his face. I’d trusted him. His keeping this from me had thrown me.

“I will never lie to you again. Never. Believe me.”

He did tell me the truth. Now. Before I slept with him. If he just wanted sex, or something casual, he’d have kept that to himself. Would I allow his mistake to erase the weeks of deep, caring conversation, of easy, fun banter, of a strong connection that made me feel less alone in the world?

Looking deep into Chris’s dark eyes, I saw him.

I saw his genuine remorse.

I saw his kindness.

And I saw the way he saw me.

To Chris, I was special. I mattered.

I rushed him, throwing my purse on the floor as I dashed across the room. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled his head to mine and finally, finally, his lips were on my lips.

Chris jerked his head back before I could even feast on them. “Hallie?”

Understanding, I gasped, “I forgive you, and I also have serious romantic feelings for you.”

“Just like that? You’re sure you forgive me?”

“How quickly did you forgive me?”

“Within a few hours.”

My lips twitched, my fingers flexing on his nape. “Well, I could wait a few hours to pretend to consider it further if that would make you feel better or—”

The rest of my words were swallowed in his kiss.

His hungry, searching, desperate kiss. I felt the hem of my sweater dress ride upward as Chris bunched the fabric in his fists at my back. “You’re killing me in this sweater,” he panted against my mouth, walking me backward as he pressed kisses along my jaw. “It makes a man think very, very dirty thoughts.”

Note to self: tell Althea she was right about this outfit.

“Get up here. I have more apologizing do,” he growled, sliding his hands under my ass to lift me. I wrapped my legs around his waist with a girlish squeal that he once again swallowed with his mouth.

I clung to his body, to his lips, as he carried me.

When I came up for air, we were in his bedroom.

His bedroom.

Where we were about to have sex.

Chris laid me gently on the edge of his bed, and I unwrapped my legs, releasing him. He stared down at me with an intensely focused expression.

Nervousness returned as he whipped off his T-shirt.

Yup, he looked just as amazing as I remembered.

His body was hard and smooth and powerful.

It was intimidating.

There was no cuddly softness to him, like George.

Chris worked out and worked hard to keep his body in this godlike shape. He’d had to for his career.

I wasn’t perfect like him.

My belly was soft, not toned, and it had a slight roundness to it, which I could probably eliminate with some sit-ups, but the very thought bored me to tears.

Until now, staring at this gorgeous man who wanted to have sex with me.

A man I was falling in love with, so I kinda wanted him to think I was the sexiest woman on the planet and that I was the best sex he’d ever had.

Fuck.

I should have done sit-ups.

Feeling myself slide out of the hot, hazy, mindless passionate place I’d been enjoying more than life, I jumped desperately off the bed to reach for Chris’s pants. I needed back to that place pronto!