The Start of Something Ch. 03

"You're quiet," Oliver says softly, pulling me away from my thoughts. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know," I say. "I don't know what I want, I mean. I get why you didn't want to talk to me, but it really hurts that you're still afraid to be in this relationship. I've been completely in it, from the start. Even when it was hard. Even when it was scary," I say, swallowing hard. "And I deserve someone who's in it, too."

"Yeah, Lexi, you do," he says quietly. "And I'm going to be from now on, I promise. If you still want me, that is."

He looks away and smiles, then looks back at me affectionately. "You know, I didn't expect to fall in love at all, let alone in just a few weeks."

He strokes my cheek. "You always take me by surprise."

I pause for a long moment, then finally speak. "I love you too," I say quietly, and he grins, his eyes brightening.

"Really?" he asks softly.

I nod. "Yeah." My eyes fill with tears, yet again.

"And I wish I didn't," I add in a whisper.

He flinches, the previous moment's joy instantly dissipating.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, putting my hand on his leg and squeezing gently. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he says, holding my head in his hand. "You were just being honest. You're always honest, and I love that about you. I am so lucky that you love me. Thank you."

He kisses my forehead tenderly, then gently wipes the tears from my eyes. He looks at me with such love and admiration and affection, that my resolve finally wavers, and I lean forward and kiss him softly. He pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms tightly around me, kissing me deeply, urgently, possessively... and then—I pull away, sighing deeply, wiping the remaining tears from my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm not sure I want to keep seeing you, and that isn't fair."

He chuckles dryly and strokes my hair. "None of this feels 'fair,' but I've made my mess. And don't stop kissing me on my account. Hell, you could tell me you were leaving and then try to fuck me, and I wouldn't stop you."

He pauses to look at me and continues, more quietly, more intimately, this time. "I'm yours, Lexi. You can do whatever you want to me. I'll always give you whatever you want."

He hesitates for a long moment, then whispers softly, "It scares the fuck out of me, but I'm willing to open up to you. Just... be gentle, ok?"

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and I see such an expression of love and vulnerability—and sadness—in his intense blue eyes that I'm stunned. He's never looked at me quite like this before. He's never said these words to me, has perhaps never said them to anyone. He's letting me see the real Oliver now, real and raw and vulnerable and hurt. He's baring himself to me, is finally willing to let himself be hurt. I'm seeing all of it, and I'm so overwhelmed with emotion that tears start to prick at my eyes.

I choke back a sob, my throat tight and constricted. This is too much. This is scary. I can't stay. I can't just stay here and accept his love and kindness. I can't accept his unconditional support. This is dangerous.

"You're stunning, Lexi," he says. "And I don't just mean on the outside. I mean who you are. You fucking take my breath away."

He pauses. "That's the word. Breathtaking."

When he says this, I nearly cry out. Breathtaking? That's too much to accept, especially from him. I don't know why, exactly, because I know I love him and trust him, despite everything. I want to let his love wash over me, like a wave of warm, beautiful light, but something is holding me back. Something is pulling me away from him.

His lips are at my ear now, his breath gently tickling my neck. "I love you, baby," he says softly. "Please just stay here with me. Let me love you." He puts his hand on the back of my neck, stroking gently.

"Lexi," he says softly. "I'm yours. Fully. Completely."

He runs his fingers through my hair, still murmuring soothing words, and I slowly, gradually, relax into his arms. He holds me tightly, protectively, possessively, and I let out a contented sigh when I feel the warmth of his strong body against mine. I'm comforted by it, knowing he's completely focused on me, knowing he wants me and needs me, so very deeply. With his entire spirit. It's so intensely passionate, so overwhelming, so terrifying, that I want to run. I want to somehow tear myself from his arms, somehow leave his warm, wonderful embrace, and collapse on my bedroom floor in a sobbing, shuddering mess. I don't want to be here with him.

And then, slowly, as I feel his hard body against mine, as I feel his soft breath on my ear, as I feel his steady heartbeat, somehow... something changes. Somehow, I decide I want to try. I want to try to be present with him, want to try to accept his love and safety and support. I want to be brave.

And maybe it's the moment, or maybe it's the safety of his warm touch, or maybe it's the hope that I'm finally letting myself feel... but now, I think... maybe it'll be ok.

With our relationship, and with... me.