Broken Juliet(88)

“Like what?”

He waves his hand at me. “Edible. Horny as hell. Fucking beautiful. Choose one.”

I take a step forward, but he holds his hand out to stop me. “No way. If you step into this apartment, all that talk tonight about us waiting, and your therapy, and blah, blah, blah, ‘We shouldn’t have sex’ will be out the window. You need to leave.”

I stop just as my toes touch the threshold. When I’d fantasized about telling him I was ready to be intimate, I’d anticipated him being a little more enthusiastic. I mean, I know he’s trying to do what’s best for me, but that was always the problem. He sucks at knowing what was best for me.

I take a tiny step. “Ethan, listen—”

He backs up. “Don’t do it. I really won’t be held accountable for my actions. It’s been three years, Cassie. Three f*cking years. The things I would do to you…” He shakes his head. “You don’t even understand.”

“What if I do understand? What if I have things I want to do to you as well?”

He closes his eyes and drops his head back against the wall. “Jesus, seriously, with that comment?”

I step through the door and close it behind me.

He opens his eyes. “Cassie, we’ll undo everything.”

“I don’t care.” I put my hands on his chest. “I need this. And as you keep saying, so do you.”

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

I stroke his face. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You find the intimacy too confronting and panic. Shut me out. Shut our relationship down.”

I roll my eyes. “Who would do something like that?”

“I’m serious.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Do you forget that I’ve been exactly where you are right now? It might.”

“Ethan, I love you, but you really need to stop thinking so much.”

He freezes. Eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

I take a step back. “Uh … what I meant was—”

“You said you loved me.” His panic seems to have vanished.

“Yeah, I did, but—”

“You didn’t mean it?” He moves closer so he can stroke my cheek. “If you didn’t, it’s okay. Or if you did, and you’re not ready to admit it, that’s okay, too. Just … tell me.”

A strange sense of calm comes over me, and I remember something he said a couple of months ago: whether or not he loved me wasn’t dependent on a word. It was just fact, pure and simple. Even if I don’t say it, it’s true, so why bother denying it anymore?

“I meant it,” I say quietly. I expect to be hit by an anxiety attack, but instead all I feel is relief. Intense, long-overdue relief.

His smile is blinding. “Yeah?”

I take a deep breath and smile back. “Definitely.”

He stares at me with so much joy, I want to kiss him all over. Instead I pull his head down and settle for his lips.

The initial shock freezes us both in our tracks. This isn’t a stage kiss. No choreographed emotions filtered through our characters. This is us. The way we should be. The way I never thought we could be again.

We draw back, just a little, and stare at each other. We’re actually going to do this. After all this time.

I feel like I should be more nervous, but then I realize all of our moments have been leading us here. Even the painful ones.

I look for hesitation in him. Self-protection or second-guessing. Instead, I see concern for me and overwhelming love.

It’s more than enough.

It’s everything.

He cups my face. Kisses me harder. There’s a thrill of familiarity about what we’re doing but with a completely new edge.

The lust is still there, as knee-buckling as ever, but there’s something deeper. It winds through my body and anchors me to him. In the past, this soul-deep connection came and went in fleeting, infrequent moments, but now, it’s where Ethan lives.

I’m still terrified, but I want to live there with him.

Make him the first and last man I’ll ever have.

We keep kissing as we stumble down the hallway into the living room. I tug at his shirt, but he pulls back and tries to catch his breath. “We don’t have to go so fast.”

“You haven’t had sex in three years, and you want to slow down?”

“The last time I had sex, it was with you. I’ve waited a long time for this. I want to savor it.”

“You’re getting on a plane in”—I look at my watch—“nine hours and thirty-eight minutes. Are we really wasting time discussing this? when we could be getting naked?”

“You make a compelling case.”

He pulls off his shirt and kisses me again. God, I’ve missed kissing him, which is crazy because we kiss every day onstage.

But not like this.

Never like this.

If he kissed me like this during the show, the sex scene wouldn’t be simulated.

It proves just how much he’s been holding back to avoid scaring me.

He presses me against the wall and reacquaints himself with my breasts. I grip his shoulders to keep myself upright. Shimmering heat whispers under my skin. It curls and releases in my stomach, making my heart hammer and my blood sing. Everywhere Ethan touches me burns a little brighter than the rest.