Page 107 of Down Beat

My lips kick up. “I was kind of busy tonight.”

She huffs a laugh. “Funny guy, huh?”

“I can be.”

A sigh makes her chest swell as she looks at me. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully some pretty dirty things.”

Her smile is soft, yet clearly unamused. “How the fuck do you swing from one extreme to the other like this?” Her brow pinches in a frown.

“That shit we talked about when I was in the shower? It’s still there,” I reassure her. “I’m not focused on it, is all.”

Her hand finds my face, her fingers soft against my jaw. “I don’t like that.”

“Neither do I.” But it is what it is, and I refuse to let it ruin what I’m doing here. “Can we start the night over?”

“How?”

I pause a moment, enjoying the feel of her hand as she trails it down the side of my neck. She doesn’t appear to be touching me in a desperate attempt to seduce me, like women in the past have. Instead, it’s an exploration. Her hand seems to map my skin as she traces the line of my collarbone with her thumb, reversing direction to skim lower over my chest with the heel of her hand.

I could lie here and let her do this for hours.

It’s insane how good it feels to have somebody touch me as though I mean something to them, especially when all I can associate with myself at the best of times is disgust.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” I open my eyes to find her watching me, waiting.

“I think that’s a little undeniable at this point, yes.”

I search her eyes for any hint of fear, any sign of doubt. “I hurt you.” There isn’t a single sign that she wants out right now.

Yet I refuse to believe that could be possible.

“You did. Yes.” Her hand skims back to my face. “But I know it wasn’t the real you.”

Fuck. I thought we were getting somewhere. “It is, though.” I jerk free of her hand. “That is the real me, kitty. Can you deal with that?”

“If that’s the real you,” she challenges, pushing up to her elbow to level our faces, “then who’s this right here?” Her finger jabs painfully into my chest. “Who’s this guy right now? Because he isn’t the one who cracked the shits at his hair. He’s not the guy who pushed me away when he needed my support most. He’s somebody entirely different, Rey.” Her rage shows in the pinpointed black of her eyes. “So don’t you give me some bullshit about how that angry motherfucker is you, because he’s not.” Tabby collapses onto her back with the final words, huffing out an exasperated breath as she stares at the ceiling.

I do the only logical thing.

I kiss her.

Her leg closest to me shifts as I roll on top, accommodating mine. I bear my weight on my elbows, careful not to crush her as I steal her air. I want to suck in every last bit of that pure optimism she breathes. I want to pull the purity from her soul and mash it with mine, bleed our colors together so that her light can balance my dark.

I fucking need this woman to stay more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.

Her chest presses against mine as she battles to catch her breath, wide eyes fixed on mine as I hold myself over her.

There isn’t a single fucking line I could deliver in this moment that would do her justice.

“I meant it,” she whispers. “I won’t be your fix. You’ve got to do this without relying on me.”

“I know.” I shuffle to bring my hands to her head so that I can stroke the strands from her face. “And I will.”

Just not today.