I gasp, leaning away from him. My resolve hardens at the look in his eyes. “I’m not afraid of anything,” I say, heart racing.
“Liar.” His hands slide up my shoulders to grip my face. “You’re terrified of this. You’re terrified of me, of what you feel for me.”
I huff, the sound catching in my throat. “You think you know me?”
“I do.”
“Why would I be afraid of you?”
“You’re afraid of what I can offer you,” he replies. “You’re afraid of what I represent.”
“And what is that?” I say, trying to ignore the way my body lights up at his touch, the way I’m leaning closer to him even now.
“Hope,” he murmurs, his lips inches from mine.
I close my eyes tight.
Hope. That word is dangerous. That word builds you up and tears you down, leaving nothing left but a charred and broken mess. Hope that my mother could change, that she could learn to stay. Hope that someone could want me. Hope that Troy was the one, that we would be happy. Hope that his family would accept me. Hope that we’d find a way through, that he could learn to love me again.
“No. I don’t have hope—”
“Yes, you do,” he presses, his hands drifting down my shoulders. “You’re protecting yourself with this bullshit about living in the now. But I see you, Tess. You have hope hidden away that you deserve more than what you’ve settled for in the past.”
How does he know me like this? He doesn’t get to know me. I can’t let him in.
“No one has ever put you first, Tess. Not your family, not Troy, not even Rachel.” He says the words so casually, tearing me open. “She has her own life, her own priorities. I give you hope that you deserve to come first.”
“I know what I deserve,” I say, my walls hardening as I fight him even now.
“Then tell me,” he challenges, his gaze fierce and direct. He’s not backing down. “Tell me what you deserve. Say it out loud.”
I lean away, my hands going to his wrists as I try to pull him off me, break our connection.
He huffs, watching me squirm, even as his hold on me is gentle. “You talk a big game, Tess. You’re larger than life—your opinions, your ambitions. And you put on such a good act for everyone. Laughing Tess. Fun Tess. Flirty Tess. You wear those labels like they’re party masks, floating through life just hoping people won’t actually try and see who dwells underneath.”
“I know who I am,” I counter, knowing it’s bullshit. So does he. For better or worse, Ryan knows me. It’s barely been a few months, but he knows me. Certainly, better than Troy ever did.
“Scared Tess,” he presses, keeping me captive with the truth. “Lonely Tess. Angry Tess who just wants to feel something, right? How many times have you said it to me? We’re friends who fuck to feel good. But you don’t want mindless orgasms. And I don’t want anything Cami or Cleopatra or any other woman has to offer. How could I when you exist?”
“Ryan, please…” He’s still looking at me like I’m his world. It’s overwhelming and humbling and I don’t know how I deserve it. I don’t know how to earn it.
“You deserve a second chance, Tess,” he says, reading me like a goddamn book. “At everything—love, adventure. I want to help you.” He brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “You’re my dream girl. So long as you’re on this earth and breathing, I know what I want. I know what I’m working towards.”
And now I’m clinging to him, words failing me. I need him to see me. I need him to understand how my vulnerability works. Sometimes I can’t speak. Sometimes I can only do. I gaze up at him, reaching out with my soul, begging him to catch me as I fall. Begging him to let us fall together.
Stepping in, his left arm wraps around my waist as he cups my cheek with his right and tips my face up, searching my lost expression. “You’re not ready to tell me how you feel, and that’s fine. But Tess, you are gonna show me.”
“How?” I say, willing to try. “What can I do?”
“Show me how you feel. We’re done fucking without feelings. We have been for a while. So, take off your panties and put them on the counter. Now.”
My insides flutter with need and anticipation. “Ryan—”
“Don’t say another word,” he says, his fingers pressing against my lips. “You’re gonna show me how you feel about me, Tess.” He releases me, stripping out of his T-shirt and dropping it to the kitchen floor. “We’re fucking with feelings. All of them. Every single one. Give me your rage and your passion, all your broken fucking dreams. Show me how much you care.”