June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

Emotion swells in my chest, causing it to feel tight and smothered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your couch,” I say softly. Meekly. Pathetically. Brant sucks in a sharp breath, his expression turning even more haunted. His gaze flicks over me, like he’s taking a moment to absorb my words. He’s letting them in, letting them fester. Then he drops the rag and closes the gap between us, reaching for me. He pulls me straight to him until our foreheads crash together and he’s holding me in a stormy grip. “Don’t,” he whispers, his hands clinging to my waist. “Don’t you dare apologize for anything.” “I feel like I need to. You’re upset… I can tell.” “I’m upset because of what I did—not you. Never you.” My hands lift, settling on his denim-clad hips. “You did exactly what I wanted you to do,” I confess in a soft breath. “Hurt you? Steal away your innocence? Make you bleed?” “Heal me. Accept my innocence as a gift I gave you. Make me come…twice.” His eyes darken, flashing with lingering heat from the night before. “I wanted you to make love to me, and that’s what we did.”