Here Without You

Instead of taking me to his bedroom, he steers me to a small parlour off the main living area, and we sit on a sofa, side by side. He turns to me and seems to brace himself for what I have to say.

I pull my Mary Poppins bag from my shoulder and reach into it, pulling out a gift bag. ‘It’s a belated birthday gift. I had to get creative, since you have everything. Or, you will now – after you unwrap that.’

Surprised, he opens the bag and flings the tissue paper to the floor. When he pulls out the T-shirt, he laughs. Aimee, Kayla and I scoured the local thrift stores for the last two days to find a MADD T-shirt similar to mine. They were horrified that I’d give Reid something ‘used’, but once I had the idea I couldn’t let it go. They forced me to swear I wouldn’t tell him they had any part in finding it.

‘Should I try it on now?’ he asks, one eyebrow quirking up.

Good golly, he’s hot, and I’d love for him to strip off his shirt and not put anything back on. But we’re not done.

‘I have one other thing to give you.’

He pushes the shirt and wrapping materials to the side while I reach into my bag and pull out the small velvet box. His eyes flick from the box to my face, and he doesn’t move.

‘What you said the other day – you were right. I’ve been disconnecting myself. I haven’t believed my parents know me. I haven’t believed that God cares about me, or my sister. I haven’t been sure he exists at all. And I haven’t had faith in a future with you.’

I take a deep breath and hold the box out to him. He swallows, jaw clenched, and opens his hand. When I place the box in his palm, he closes his fingers over it.

I lick my lips and take a deep breath of my own. ‘You said you have faith in us. You told me to come to you when I was ready to be fearless. The truth is, I don’t know if I can be fearless. I’ve lost myself, Reid, and I’m still so scared. But I’m ready to try. If you still want to, I’m ready.’

He blinks, stunned, and opens the box. Taking my left hand from my lap, he pulls the ring from its silk-sheathed slot and slides it on to my finger. The dark blue stone and surrounding baguettes fill the space below my knuckle, and somehow, it fits perfectly. He leans closer, his lips a whisper over mine at first, and then he kisses me deeper, gathering me closer, our breaths mingled and shared until we’re both winded, chests heaving like we’ve each run a mile uphill.

He stares at my hand in his for a long minute, his thumb caressing the edges of the band on my finger, before his eyes lift to mine. ‘When do you have to be home?’ His voice is low and tinged with an ache that echoes back from my heart.

‘I told them I might be a little late …’ I say.

Before I can say another word, he grabs my right hand, jumps up and strides through the house to his bedroom. He programmes an intercom system inside his door – the display reads: River’s room: ON. ‘I can hear him; he can’t hear us,’ he says.

Elbowing the door shut, he tugs me into the circle of his arms.

The second his mouth crashes into mine, I’m on fire. Engulfed. I open my mouth and he kisses me harder as I press against him, locking my arms around his neck. His hands are hard on my back, fingers digging in, sliding down to my hips, gripping me tight as his tongue thrusts deep into my mouth, stoking the fire at my core until it’s raging through me.

One knee slips up the outside of his thigh and he immediately grasps my leg, wrenches it higher and around his waist. As the other follows, he lifts me effortlessly, and I hook my ankles at his low back. Cushioning my head with his hand, he slams me into the wall. His lips leave mine with a loud pop, sliding down my jaw, raining kisses down my neck as I’m gulping in air. Seizing handfuls of his hair, I pull him back to my mouth, kissing him urgently, our tongues tangling.

Shoving my tank up, his hands cup my br**sts, thumbs teasing beneath the smooth satin, and I can’t get close enough to him. Without his hands bracing my weight, I’ve slipped just low enough to feel him hard against me, too many layers between us. Panting, he unhooks my front-closure bra and shoves the cups to the sides, and despite my determined muteness so far, I cry out when he sucks a nipple into his mouth, hard. Arching into him, I bite my lip until it stings, and I’m rewarded with his growl as he swings me around, strides towards the bed and drops me on to it.

I’m transfixed by the sight of him jerking his shirt over his head without bothering to unfasten the buttons. He slings it to the ground, inside out, as I shrug out of my tank and bra. Stepping up and unzipping my shorts, his dark gaze is on my face. My heart thuds as I return his stare and begin unbuttoning his jeans slowly, brazenly.

Seconds later, he’s tossing my shorts to the floor and pressing me to the mattress. As soon as our mouths meet again, my heart cracks open, and the memories are a tidal wave, beginning with that first spellbinding kiss in the pink closet. He seems heavier, bigger, harder all over than he was even those few months ago, but his beautiful face is still all angled symmetry, except for his full mouth and the thick, curving lashes ringing his dusk-blue eyes.

His kiss is the same – hot and demanding, but never stingy. Perfect. I’m good for you even if you don’t know it yet, he told me, and then he waited months for me to know it. To believe it. To stop doubting him.

Tears seep from the corners of my eyes to snake into my hair, and I hold on and kiss him back, measure for measure. ‘I love you,’ I say, finally, and he freezes and pulls back, watching me. ‘I love you,’ I repeat, ‘and I’m so scared, Reid. But I have faith in us.’