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Realization hits me. Brandon.
He must think Brandon did this to me.
I lunge forward before Oliver can take off, taking his jacket into my fists.
He stops in his tracks, turning around as I shift my grip to his shirt. The scent of the water and beach fills my body with a calming sensation.
I don’t want him to leave. I never have.
My gaze finds itself drawn to his, my hazel eyes trying to find light in the storm clouds of his.
“Please don’t leave,” I beg. “It wasn’t Brandon, I swear.”
Oliver’s expression softens. Something flashes through him, and those storming eyes flare up with intensity once again.
“Who hurt you?”
“No one you know,” I whisper.
“Sally, seeing you hurt is driving me crazy. Please let me help you.” His voice breaks, and I feel him start to shake as well.
“I don’t think you can fix me, Oliver,” I answer truthfully.
Oliver’s hands ball into fists. “I don’t want to fix you, Sally.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You can’t fix what isn’t broken, and you’re not broken.” His voice is firm and undeniable.
The words sound true as day, but they don’t make sense to me. I’ve viewed myself as damaged goods, unable to find any sort of love, for such a long time. How can he say all of this like he knows for certain I’m still worth all the trouble?
“Please make me forget, even if it’s for a second. I don’t want to remember what the universe made me into.”
His teeth grit together once again before his hands come to cup my face, making sure we are staring into each other’s eyes. His eyes finally show that color of blue-green that I love getting lost in.
“Fuck it. Can I kiss you?”
I’m already nodding before he even finishes.
Oliver brings his lips down on mine in a sweet, gentle kiss that caresses my face. Tingles surge through my body, but something feels lacking.
His hands cup my face like I’m a fragile doll that could break at any moment. I might feel broken, but I’m not fragile. I don’t want to feel like that anymore.
I love the feeling of his lips. I love how he wants me to feel precious, but I’m not, and I never will be. I need to feel unbreakable, but he’s trying too hard to be a gentleman.
I grimace and pull away from the caress. “Oliver, I haven’t been treated gently my entire life. If you are going to kiss me, fucking kiss me.”
He looks at me for a second, almost assessing if he can actually follow my instructions. He must have found his answer because the next moment, everything shifts in him.
Oliver crashes into my lips in an all-consuming kiss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sally
Heat and passion.
I’ve learned not to expect that when kissing someone.
