through my undershirt, that her hand’s wrapped around my wrist, that her legs are curled over mine.
I stop the movie and scoop her up, blanket and all, and carry her down the hall. We make it up the stairs, and I hope she doesn’t have any shit on her floor so I don’t trip as I carry her through the dark and set her on her bed. I flick on the light on her bedside table, its glow casting shadows on the purple wall behind her headboard.
Tonight’s been a mindfuck, and it’s fitting I’m the only one awake for it.
I did the right thing by protecting her. Right now, it’s hard to believe.
The closet door is ajar, so I step inside. The first thing in it is a garment bag.
I tug down the zipper, and the purple dress inside twists my guts another sharp turn.
After spending the evening at prom with Carly, I didn’t think my night could get any worse.
But the look on Annie’s face gutted me.
There’s a real possibility Annie will never forgive me.
She wanted to go tonight. I would’ve given almost anything to take her.
Except I couldn’t take her—for a million reasons that now seem ridiculous.
Her dad, this thing with Carly—none of it matters when I cross the room and look at her.
She’s rich, and I’m poor.
She feels everything, and I guard my emotions.
She’s aching to be seen, and I long to be left alone.
My chest hurts when I’m with her and even more when I’m not, and I don’t know how the hell to live my life when it feels inextricably linked with hers.
Annie shivers, and I pull the covers up over her.
“I know you’re upset with me,” I murmur. “But I need things to be okay with us. Because if they’re not, if you’re not…” I shove both hands through my hair, at a loss to finish that sentence. “What you said about me wanting to control things—you’re right. But the thing I hate more than losing control is the thought of you hurting when I could fix it.”
My name on her sleepy lips has me leaning over the bed.
“Did you dance with her?” she mumbles.
I have a sudden urge to trace the curve of her lower lip with my finger but settle for brushing aside a piece of hair that’s falling across her face. “Yeah.”
“Did you kiss her?” Annie’s fingertips graze my bicep.
I swear it’s an accident until they linger. Then they drift up, over my chest.
My muscles leap in response, and I suck in a shallow breath. “Yes.”
Her touch moves down my chest, tracing the lines of my pecs as if drawing me through her closed eyes.
The only things between us are her thin tank top and my shirt. When her fingers reach my abs, my eyes nearly roll back in my head.
“Did you fuck—”
“No. Never.”
It’s not a statement—it’s a plea for everything to be okay, to go back to the time before I realized how much she meant, how high the stakes got when I wasn’t looking.
I can resist her innocent exploration, at least until her hand finds the hem of my shirt. When her fingers graze the bare skin over my clenched abs, right above the waistband of my pants, I want to growl.
Tonight’s a war of emotions. My dick has no business being in this game, but I can’t help it.
It wants her.
I want her.
Both of us are sick of holding back.
When she speaks again, her voice is steady, her words a vow.
“She can’t have you.”
My lips brush the shell of her ear. I love the way she shivers. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re mine.”
I stop breathing.
I’ve told a lot of lies to survive, but the biggest one is that I can keep my distance from her.
I did something tonight, and I can never take it back. I’d go to war for Annie Jamieson, on this and any other day. Whatever I am, I would lay it down to protect her.
Whatever pieces are left of me after tonight, they’re hers to collect, to catalogue, to keep in a bottle.
Silently, I cover her mouth with mine.
Her softs lips part with the slightest pressure, as if she was waiting for me to ask, waiting to welcome me in.
Her light, floral scent is making my senses swim, deepening the conviction that I can’t survive another second without this girl in my arms.
I taste her mouth, explore her, mark her as mine.
She not only lets me, she moans when I do it.
You’re mine.
I lose it, the