"I'm sorry," I mumble, shifting closer to him. His knees are bent now, his arms resting on them. "I thought it would help."
I ball my palm, my nails cutting deep into it, as I'm waiting, terrified of what he might say.
After what seems like an eternity, he turns to me.
"Smile for me," he says and relief surges through me, so sudden and so powerful, that the smile comes naturally.
His features melt into a heartfelt smile too, his eyes brimming with warmth.
"I told you that one smile from you can make everything better. This is all I'll ever need."
At this moment, I truly believe we can mend each other. More than that, I almost think we can complete each other. I know he can complete me. Because if this man—who wants to build a fantasy world for me, who alread
y made my reality more beautiful than any fantasy—if he can't complete me, then no one ever will. I raise my fingers to his cheek, caressing his soft skin, losing myself in his hypnotizing blue eyes. He can complete me, that I know. But will I ever be able to complete him? Will I ever be enough for him? He lets out a soft moan when I run my fingers over his lips, but he doesn't inch closer or touch me. He doesn't try to close the distance between us. He's waiting for me to do it. And I'm so close to doing just that. To lean in and forget that not only can he complete me, he can also shatter me like no one else. So close to forgetting that he did so already. What guarantee do I have that he won't do so again? Jess's words sneak inside my mind again. You'll end up in your safe little corner, where nothing risky can harm you. From where you'll never allow yourself to live. Will I do that? Will I choose to walk away from him, just so I don't risk him hurting me again?
Goose bumps form on my arms, as if my body is rejecting this heresy of an idea. James senses it too. He must, because something flickers in his eyes—something that I think is fear. A cold shiver chills me, as if someone dropped an ice cube down my spine. What will my walking away, my choosing safety, do to him? I never thought of that. I chose my own safety once, at Kate's expense. It's a different situation now, sure, but choosing my safety again will not only come at my expense, but also James's.
The recognition slaps me like a whip. I can't be that selfish again. He wants to change for me. Why I can't find the courage to do the same for him?
Trembling, I push myself up on my knees, and he does the same. All color has drained from his cheeks. He thinks I'm preparing to leave.
My heart throbs against my ribcage as I put one palm on his chest and then the other, not quite meeting his eyes, gazing at the top button of his shirt instead. His heart drums under my fingers, with a lightning-quick rhythm that matches my own. I bite my lip and close my eyes. Somehow, I think I will find the courage I seek easier, if I let the darkness behind my eyelids guide me, instead of the image of him. I take a deep breath—his intoxicating ocean and musk scent filling me. The skin on my fingers prickles, as I slide my fingers upward, touching the warm skin on his neck. Now that my eyes are closed, all my other senses are awake, ravaging me. I lean into him slowly, very slowly. I wish he'd take mercy on me and take the lead, because kissing him seems to require a different kind of courage than jumping from that plane did. More like the kind of courage it took to watch those balloons soar up in the sky.
But claiming my happiness takes more courage than both of those things ever did.
I find his lips before I find the courage. Smooth and warm and waiting for me. They are slightly open. Inviting. I take my time to enjoy them, my eyes still closed. I kiss the upper lip first, pulling at it slightly with my teeth. He groans against my mouth, making the skin on my entire body tingle. Still, he doesn't touch me. I move to his lower lip, and when I finish torturing it, when I finally kiss him—he touches me, putting one palm on the small of my back.
And then he breaks off the kiss.
Inches away from him, I stare into his eyes. They are so dark, they seem black rather than blue.
"Are you sure about this, Serena?"
"I'm trembling like a leaf; I'd say I'm pretty damn sure," I joke, my voice weak.
James bites his lip, his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand is shaking. "I know you want me. But I don't want you to do something you might regret tomorrow."
"I won't."
"Or change your mind."
"That won't happen either."
He pauses, running his thumb over my lips. "I don't want you to leave me again."
I catch my breath, and I lean in, whispering, "Never."
When our lips meet again, he completely loses it. His hand presses my back, flattening me against him as his mouth covers mine in a rough move, his tongue seeking mine in a desperate dance. I gasp for breath when his lips leave my mouth, descending down my neck, marking a trail of flames on their way to my breasts.
"Make love to me, James," I beg, frantically undoing the buttons of his shirt, then tossing the black fabric in the grass. The sight of his naked torso cuts my breath short. He opens the zipper of my dress, and in one, gratifying second, his hands abrade my back, his nails digging in my skin. I get stuck on the button of his pants, as usual. With one soft laugh, James removes his pants altogether. I let my dress fall. James swallows hard when it slides down my shoulders. I'm not wearing a bra. I kick my dress away as he cups my breasts, my eyes latched onto his. I sit down on the blanket, then lie on my back, pulling him on top of me.
"I want to get lost in you," I say, remembering what he said to me that night in the factory. His arms lie by my sides, his warm body shielding me from the chilling night breeze.
James smiles against my lips, "I want to get lost in us."
Lost in us. I could do that.
I smile too. We both have goose bumps all over our bodies.