I reached for him, trying to pull him on top of me.
But he stopped himself. He braced his hands on either side of my head, keeping his weight off me, his face just inches from mine. His voice was raw when he whispered,
“Ariella, I—”
But I wasn’t listening.
I didn’t want to hear whatever excuse he was about to give. I didn’t care.
So I pulled him harder toward me and kissed him, desperate, trying to burn away all the space he kept putting between us.
He didn’t open up for me at first, but I kissed him harder, more insistently, until he groaned—low and deep—and finally gave in. His mouth moved against mine, and just like that, we were in sync again. It gave me strength. Hope. Maybe we were finally heading in the right direction.
My fingers slipped into his hair, then down to his shou
