Knowing I’ll probably be ambushing him just as he pulls into his driveway, I get back in my car and race to his place, pulling into the gravel driveway while searching for his truck. Sadly, he’s not home yet, so I decide to park and wait for him.
As I sit in my car and scroll through my phone, my nerves jump around in my body, reminding me that facing him tonight is risky and the unknown of how he’s going to react could make this situation worse.
Headlights flash in the rearview mirror, alerting me to his arrival as the sound of the rock being crushed by the rubber tires gets louder as he pulls up next to me. Feigning courage, I rise from my car and close my door just as Javi does the same on his truck. He walks around the front of it and we arrive in the same spot, just a few feet from each other.
“What are you doing here, Sydney?”
“I think we need to talk,” I say on a shaky breath.
“About what? I thought we did all of the talking we needed to the other night,” he spits over his shoulder as he walks to his door and unlocks it. I follow closely behind so he can’t slam it in my face, but surprisingly he holds it open for me. Huh, for someone who doesn’t think we need to talk, why is he letting me inside?
I place my keys on the counter and then my hands on my hips. “No. You did all the talking the other night. You never let me tell you how I felt or what I want … you just made that decision for me, just like my father does.”
That catches his attention, the words that remind him exactly of the issues I’m facing in my life. He narrows his eyes at me, glaring while my skin itches with heat. Then he stands tall, crosses his arms over his chest, and widens his stance, his aura claiming possession of the room and reminding me of the presence he keeps, both in and out of the bedroom.
“So what is it that you feel, Princess? What is it that you want?”
Without hesitation, I cross the room to where he’s standing by the arm of the couch, inching closer as if someone is pulling a string between us as painfully slow as possible. When I arrive merely inches from his chest, the warmth of his body radiating off him in waves, I lock my eyes on his and raise my right hand to cup his face, caressing his stubble-lined jaw while running my thumb across his cheek. He relaxes under my touch, but his eyes don’t give me anything. They’re still cold, angry, full of a hesitancy to believe anything I say next.
“Learning about your past doesn’t change how I feel about you, Javi. I don’t care that you’ve been to prison, as long as you didn’t murder someone. Although, by how old you are and the fact that you’re not currently in prison, I’m guessing that wasn’t the case anyway. We’re all allowed to have a past, and believe it or not, I’m not the type to judge people on theirs because I’ve been on the receiving end of that judgment far too many times.” I hope his mind veers back to his previous assessments of me with that statement. “But more importantly than that, and the fact that your record doesn’t define you as a person, the only thing that I really wanted you to know that night was that all I want … is you.”
His nostrils flare as a new wave of reluctancy passes over him. I can see the denial in his eyes, the disbelief in the slack of his lips, the tension leaving his arms as his fists unclench and he stands before me, searching my eyes for the truth.
And I give it to him—the unwavering notion that no matter how or why this started, I’m not done with him yet. I don’t want this to be over too soon when we’re just getting started. We’ve established a physical connection, but there’s an emotional one here too—and I want to explore that with every thump of my heart.
“What do you have to say, Javi?” I press, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Do you want me too?”
“I …” He starts, but then cuts himself off. “I don’t know what I want.”
I’m taken aback by his response because judging by the way he glared at me earlier today, I was sure he was jealous. Did I read him wrong? Was coming here a big mistake?
“Who was that guy earlier?” he says, his voice filled with stark demand.
I let out a laugh and then drop my hand from his face. “Is that what matters to you? Is this just about you not wanting me, but not wanting me to be with anyone else either?”
“Answer the question, Sydney.”
“That was Andrew Benton. He went to school with us too. My father has been trying to set us up for months, but I keep pushing him away and declining his advances, especially after things started happening between us,” I say, motioning with a wave of my hand.
“Then why was he touching you? What I saw looked awfully friendly.”
“He put his hand on me, Javi. I didn’t ask for that.”
“Seems like that’s the type of guy you want.”
“Ha!” I mock, stepping away from him now, growing angrier with each accusation. “I just told you that you are the one I want, and you accuse me of wanting someone else?” I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. “I don’t know how I could make that any more clear.”
“I won’t be made a fool, Sydney …”
“And I have no intention of doing so. Just tell me, Javi. Tell me what you want. Because
