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“Would you…” Her voice gets small. “…leave if we don’t?”
“Is that what this is about?” I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You think I’m only here for sex?”
Her lower lip trembles. “Aren’t you?”
“Christ.” I drop my hand. “Who put that bullshit in your head?”
She sits up, knees pulled to her chest. “Serena said?—”
“Of course she did.” I bite back a growl. “Because Serena’s such a fucking expert on relationships.”
“You did leave.”
“I left because I had to deal with my shit.” I run a hand through my hair. “Not because I didn’t want you.” And I still hate myself for it. For wasting that precious time.
“Because you’re so good at dealing with things.”
“At least I’m not trying to fuck away my problems.”
Her head snaps up. “Screw you.”
“Already tried that tonight, remember?” I catch her wrist as she tries to slap me. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Let go.”
I tighten my grip. “Come on, Naomi. You want to hit something? Hit me. You want to fuck something up? I’m right here.”
“I hate you.” But her voice cracks.
“No, you don’t.” I pull her closer. “You hate that I see through your bullshit.”
She struggles against my grip. “You don’t see anything.”
“I see everything.” I release her wrist, letting her stumble back. “I see how you check out when someone mentions Anne. How you flinch every time your mom or dad calls. How you can’t keep food down when you’re stressed.”
“Stop.”
“I see you, Naomi.” I lean forward, catching her gaze. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as her shoulders shake. “You can’t promise that.”
“I’ve wanted you since college. If sex was all I wanted, don’t you think I’d have moved on by now?” My hands itch to pull her close, to shield her from everything, including herself. “I’m like a bad penny, cupcake. Or better yet, that stray dog that keeps showing up at your door because you fed it once. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Everyone leaves.” She swipes at her eyes. “My dad. My mom. Anne. You’ll?—”
“I’m not them.” I cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. “I’m right here.”
Her hands grip my wrists. “Brandon…”
“So no.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re not having sex tonight. Or any night until you believe I’m not going anywhere. And now, sleep.”
“Stay?”
Like she needs to ask. “Always, cupcake.”
EIGHTEEN
NAOMI