"What…?"
I was flabbergasted. His confession was raw, bold, and stripped completely bare, leaving me stunned into silence.
"I have loved you ever since we met,"
he confessed, the words rushing out as if they'd been trapped for years.
"I tried everything to make you happy. To protect you. And then you betray my trust after I literally just told you what he wanted from you."
He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The anger was gone, replaced by a profound, heartbreaking vulnerability.
"I feel stupid, Mia!" he burst out, his voice cracking. "Am I not enough?!"
His question hung in the air, shattering the last of my defenses. "Am I not enough?!"
The raw pain in his voice broke me. All the walls I had built, all the denial I had clung to, crumbled to dust.
"No," I whispered, my voice thick with tears. "No, Noah. You are everything."
But words were not enough. They were too slow, too clumsy to convey the storm of regret and certainty raging inside me.
I didn't wait. I didn't let him lean in.
I lunged for him.
My hands flew to his face, pulling him to me as my lips crashed against his. It was desperate, messy, and fueled by a torrent of emotion, my apology, my shame, my realization. It was a kiss that said I see you now, I choose you, it was always you.
He froze for a single, heart-stopping second, stunned by my suddenness. Then, a low groan rumbled in his chest, and his arms wrapped around me, crushing me to him as he kissed me back with a fervor that matched my own. It was no longer just my kiss; it was ours, a collision of two broken pieces finally finding their way back to wholeness.
I looked into his eyes, and a sudden, warm shyness bloomed in my chest.
The world came back into focus, the soft rumble of the engine, the dim light of the dashboard painting his features in soft shadows. The fervent, desperate energy of our kiss had settled, leaving in its wake a profound, trembling quiet.
I had kissed him. I had initiated that raw, claiming kiss, a complete surrender to the truth he had laid bare. Now, in the aftermath, the boldness that had propelled me forward receded, replaced by a wave of self-consciousness. It wasn't the fear from before, or the humiliation. It was the vulnerability of being truly, completely seen by him, now that I finally understood the depth of his love.
My gaze dropped from his intense stare to his lips, which were still slightly parted, and I felt a flush heat my cheeks. Just moments ago, I had felt the full, unbridled force of his love, in his broken confession, in the way his hands cradled my face as if I were something precious, in the devastating tenderness of his kiss. It was that very love, now so obvious and overwhelming, that made me feel shy.
He saw the shift in me. The storm in his eyes had cleared, leaving only a deep, possessive warmth. A slow, understanding smile touched his lips, the sight of it making my heart stutter against my ribs.
"Don't,"
he murmured, his voice a low, rough caress that seeped into my bones. His thumb gently stroked my cheek, wiping away the last trace of a tear I hadn't even felt.
"Don't you ever be shy with me. Not after this."
He leaned his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine, sealing the silent promise between us.
"Not ever again."
I nodded, my heart still thrumming from his words. The air was clear, the silence now a comfortable, shared space. Feeling a sudden, overwhelming need to process it all, I turned to open the car door.
But I never made it.
A strong arm hooked around my waist, and in one swift, gentle motion, he pulled me back. Instead of the passenger seat, I found myself settled firmly across his lap, my back nestled against his solid chest. One of his arms wrapped securely around my stomach, anchoring me to him, while his other hand came up to gently brush the hair from my shoulder.
He was different. The broken vulnerability was gone, replaced by a calm, unwavering certainty. The man holding me now wasn't the wounded boy asking if he was enough. He was a man who had received his answer and was now providing the safety he'd always promised.
I could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart against my back, a calming rhythm that slowly steadied my own. He dipped his head, and I felt his lips brush against the shell of my ear, his voice a low, possessive murmur that seeped right into my soul.
"Who said," he whispered, "I was going to let you go?"
His arm tightened around me, a secure and unbreakable hold.
"I am not done with you yet."