Lost to You (Take This Regret 0.5)(36)
Author: A.L. Jackson

He looked so much like the type of guy I’d sworn never to give myself to. My heart recognized the risk. He could so easily crush me, but Christian had become my welcomed complication.

Black hair brushed over his forehead as he cocked his head to the side in a silent question, obviously wondering where my thoughts had wandered.

“It’s nothing,” I mumbled low, dragging a napkin over my mouth to cover the emotion building there.

Crinkles lighted at the corners of his eyes as he mildly frowned, and he only squeezed my knee.

Christian chatted on as if we’d been together for years. Plans for our future were made without thought, where he would take me and the different things he wanted us to experience together. How different school would be now that we didn’t have to pretend, how our lives seemed fated as they had finally aligned.

The waitress brought our check and Christian set a credit card on the tray. After he paid, he silently rose and extended his hand.

My chair squeaked on the tile floor as I pushed back from the table and accepted Christian’s waiting hand. He said nothing as he helped me back into my coat and wrapped my scarf around my neck, the gesture quietly intimate.

All traces of the light mood from earlier had evaporated, a charge igniting the air.

“Ready?”

Swallowing, I intertwined my fingers with his. “Yes.”

In silence, we snaked between the tiny tables filling the dark restaurant. Christian held the door open for me, and I stepped out. Cold increased its hold on the city. A chill slid down my spine, and I hugged my arms across my chest.

From behind, Christian cocooned himself around me. Covering my hands with his, he drew me tight against him and hooked his jaw over my shoulder. His breath washed over me, so thick and warm—sweet and kind—his nose nuzzling behind my ear, his lips sending shivers down the sensitive skin.

Then he pressed his cheek against mine.

“I love you, Elizabeth.”

It was said so easily, bled so naturally. I harbored no questions of its truth.

“I love you, Christian, so much.” The words filtered out ahead of us and mingled with the night air.

Christian had stolen my heart and held it in his hand.

Without letting go, he edged us forward, said nothing as he lifted his hand to hail a cab. He opened the door and gently eased me down into the back seat. Soundlessly, he slipped in and wrapped me back in his arms.

He murmured my address into the darkened cab.

The driver pulled into traffic.

Turned to the side, I rested my cheek over the beat of his heart. One of his arms held me close, his fingers playing in my hair, his other hand gripping mine on his lap.

I could feel it, the strained ripples of need coursing between us, this new uncertainty, another question.

Tension ricocheted between us. His hand tightened in mine, and he turned to whisper in my ear. “Come home with me, Elizabeth. I don’t want to take you home.”

“I never said I wanted you to.”

The spat of air he released from his nose rustled through my hair at the top of my head. The sound reflected the moment, relief and tension and building anticipation.

Christian shifted me so he could lean forward. “Excuse me. We’ve had a change of plans.” Christian gave him his address. The driver nodded and turned down the next street in the direction of Christian’s apartment.

We settled back into silence.

Waiting.

Wanting.

The short ride felt too long. Christian paid the fare and climbed from the backseat, never once losing the hold he had on me. He glanced back over his shoulder as he lightly tugged at my hand. Slowly, he led us inside his building and up the three long flights of stairs. Expectation swelled between us, echoed in our footsteps and in the heavy breaths we forced in and out of our lungs.

I clung to him, my hand tight in his, the other wrapped around his wrist as he walked a step ahead of me.

I was nervous. Excited. Terrified. Not of this, but of what I didn’t know, of all my inadequacies and deficiencies.

He stopped at his door and fumbled through his pockets to withdraw his keys. Metal scraped as the key was inserted in the keyhole, the sound piercing in the hush of the hall.

Christian pushed the door open wide, pulled me in behind him, and spun to close it in the same movement he edged me up against it. Cold fingertips brushed over my cheeks and down my jaw. He began to slowly unwind the scarf from my neck. Christian’s eyes were all ablaze, smoldering as he stared me down. He slipped the scarf from my neck and dropped it to the floor. He palmed the heated flesh there, sent chills flying through my system.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I looked up at him and answered in all honesty. “I’m a little nervous.”

Okay. Maybe not completely honest. I was really nervous, so out of my element. My body quaked uncontrollably, these long rolls of trembles that I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried. They vibrated between us. Palpable. Clear.

Sex had left a rancid taste in my mouth, a bitter mark on my soul.

But I wanted this. I had for so long. I wanted to explore what Christian had created in me.

The arc of his mouth was tender. “Elizabeth, whatever happens tonight is totally up to you. I’m not going to lie. I’ve been dying to make love to you since the first time I met you, and whenever you let me, I will cherish it. But I don’t want it until you’re ready.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“God, Elizabeth.” He blinked hard and his hold intensified on either side of my neck. Raging blue eyes opened to me. “You couldn’t. It’s not even possible. Is that really what you’re worried about?”

Chewing on the inside of my lip, I nodded.

This anxious sound seeped from the back of his throat, and he dropped his arms. “I’ve never been so nervous in my life.”

“What? Why?” The words tripped from my mouth as one.

“Because it’s you, and I don’t want to mess this up. When I touch you”—he reached up to trace a straight line from my chin to the hollow at the base of my neck—“I don’t want to leave behind any question of how much I love you.” His low laugh was almost pained. “And what I want most is to wipe the memory of anyone else touching you from your mind.”

Again, our distinct differences made us the same.

“All I want is you, Christian.” With my gaze pinned on him, I fumbled to let the first button of his coat free. “For us to forget everything and everyone else, because none of that matters anymore.”