He released me and headed for my door.
Panic constricted my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. He was going. Why? Why is he going? He can’t go.
“Where are you going?” I almost shouted, pressing my fists into my stomach.
“Somewhere other than here so you can think about what you and I really are.”
'Going? No. No—he is not walking away when I’ve finally told him that there’s more than just sex. It was a totally roundabout way, but I told him. And I don’t need to think.'
I knew what we were. We’re crazy and painful and consuming. We’re the rainbow through the storm and the rain on a hot summer’s day. We’re the light and dark, everything bad and everything good.
“Don’t go.” The words tumbled from me. Desperately, my voice cracked and I begged. “Ivan. Don’t. Please.&