I looked at him, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful he was, how broken and in pain he was – pain I'd caused to some degree.
On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I'd left on his cheek, clutching his thick silky hair in my hands.
James bent his knees to align our bodies, his breathing harsh and erratic. "I'll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back."
Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of his need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for him.
Running my hands down his chest in an effort to soothe his trembling, I gave him the hard truth. "We can't seem to stop making each other miserable.
I can't keep doing this to you and I can't keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, James. We're seriously dysfunctional."
