Page 111 of A Dark Fall

He sighs, tilting his forehead down to rest it on top of mine, eyes closing over. His mouth is so close like this. The barest tilt of my head, and I could kiss him.

I need to go.

“I know I’ve made it harder for you to believe me now, baby, but I’ve never lied to you about how I feel. How you make me feel.” His voice is scratched raw.

I feel the sting of tears rise behind my eyes, sad and angry.Of course, I’m still angry with him, but I know he’s hurting too, and it’s clear to me heissorry. I just don’t know how to deal with it. I bring my hands up to gently push him away, but I can’t bring myself to do that, so I just rest them flat on his chest. It’s warm and hard, and his heart thunders quickly under my fingers.

“Please don’t go,” he says. “Stay. Stay the night. You can meet him in the morning. Fuck, I’d like for him to meet you.” He moves his forehead from side to side in a rocking motion while he breathes deeply.

Stay.Stay with him and fall asleep with him and wake up with him. Stay and meet his little boy. His little boy I didn’t know existed until half an hour ago.

It doesn’t sound that bizarre anymore.

Stay.My body wills me to say yes, but that’s always what my body has done where he’s concerned. It’s selfish and desperate. My mind though, my good-girl reasons—they’re louder now.

“How would you introduce me to him?” I ask.

“What?”

“Who am I to you?”

He pulls back to stare into my eyes as he ponders my question. “I’d tell him your name and how you fixed me once when I was hurt. I’d tell him how special you are and that his dad cares about you so fucking much,” he says.

I picture his little boy’s face peering shyly up at me from behind Jake as he says this, and I feel myself smile a little.

Jake takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around me, so I’m pulled flat against his chest. Oh, the heat and comfort of being held by him again is immense. Today, when I left here, I thought I’d never get to have this again.

He moves his mouth to the side of my head to my temple, where he kisses me gently. Then he kisses softly down my cheek, my jaw, until he reaches my mouth. He holds the sides of my head as he slides his lips over mine, gentle and deliberate at first. When he pushes his tongue into my mouth, I can’t help but sigh into the kiss. He still tastes the same. Of course he does. His hand on my hip, he pulls me into him, rocking his hips against me as he deepens the kiss.

“Alex ... please,” he whispers. “I need you. You have no fucking idea how much I need you. How much I need this.Us.Something good.”

Between his mouth and the words, I feel turned inside out. My arms hang by my sides, but I want so much to wrap them around him, to slide them under his T-shirt and graze my fingernails across the dip of his spine. But that would be weak. And I don’t want him to know how weak I am.

I want to be strong.

If I wrap my arms around him, it would be some kind of forgiveness. It would be me telling him that what he did is okay.

“Jake, please ...” I protest, but he kisses the words from my mouth with his own.

Stronger than this, Alex. Much stronger.

Then, saving me, his phone rings. He ignores the noise entirely, but I twist my head and use my hands to push at his body until he releases me. A small growl of frustration leaves him as he steps back. He’s breathing hard, and his eyes are dark and fiery as he stares at me, his phone continuing to ring. He needs to answer it before it wakes his son.

Finally, he takes the phone out of his pocket, glances at it, and shuts off the call.

“Your taxi’s downstairs,” he states.

As I nod, I realize I can’t drag my eyes or my body any farther away from his. The idea of leaving him makes me feel nothing but dread, as if it’s some insurmountable task I’ve no hope of completing. He looks as if he wants to say something but is holding his mouth shut tight to stop himself.

With some degree of effort, I manage to force myself to turn away from him, crossing to the breakfast bar to lift my jacket and bag. When I look back, he’s staring at me, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, and eyes sad.

“Let me walk you down,” he says and moves toward me.

I shake my head. “No. You can’t leave him.”

He stops and begins to bite the inside of his mouth again in that way he does. The way I now know is his way of stopping himself from talking. Because he doesn’t want to talk to me. Because he wants to keep things from me.

“Alex, I need you to know. Before you go, I need you to know that I’m ...” He pauses, a tortured look on his face.