Instead of You(30)

My heart cracked open at his words. I could picture him, all too well, alone in his car, crying, sobbing, trying to make it home to his family, not knowing who was left. I reached over and took his hand, threading my fingers in the space between his, knowing I had nothing to offer him that could make the pain go away.

“When I got here, I saw my mom and the relief that came with that was overwhelming.” He paused for another moment and I watched as his Adam’s apple dipped, certain he was swallowing to keep his emotions down. “She told me what happened, and I think she was still in shock. She was still a mom, worried about having to tell her son something he should never have to hear. And I was just a kid who’d lost his father and brother. We sat at that table and we cried together. It’s still all kind of a blur. But after a while, when there wasn’t anything else to absorb and all that was left to do was try to figure out how to live without them, I found you in my bed.”

He took in a quick breath before he continued.

“I saw you lying there, and I was so relieved. No one had mentioned you and it hadn’t occurred to me that you could have been there with them until I saw you.”

His words were trembling out of his mouth as he looked down at our intertwined hands. I moved as close to him as I could and reached around with my free arm, my hand slowly pulling his cheek so he would look at me. His eyes darted back and forth between mine as he said his next words.

“You were here, and you were safe, and even though I’d lost so much, I hadn’t lost everything.”

As if his words hadn’t been forthcoming enough, his eyes were telling me so much more. They were deep and I was drowning. He was asking me for nothing and everything at the same time, and I feared I had nothing to give him, nothing worthy of the affection filling his eyes. He leaned forward, slowly moving closer, his face angling to just the right tilt so that his mouth would softly brush against mine, and I could do absolutely nothing to stop him.

Not even if I wanted to.

It felt as though he were trying to convince me of something with the kiss. The push and pull of his lips, the way his tongue so tentatively swept through my mouth, gently coaxing me, trying to persuade me of something.

On one hand I wanted to pull away and tell him he had nothing to prove to me, that he didn’t have to kiss me like I was going somewhere.

But on the other hand, Hayes kissing me like he was desperate for me wasn’t something I’d ever experienced before and I wasn’t about to end it before it really began. I’d come to his house to make him feel better, to get his mind off the things that were plaguing him.

I wanted to be closer, needed to feel more of him pressed against me. Carefully, without breaking our kiss, I swiveled to one knee and straddled him, then slowly sank down to rest on his lap. My breath hitched when he released my hand, only to land both of his on my thighs, smoothing his hands up high near my hips, and then back down again.

My palms gently landed on his chest, then glided up and over his shoulders, up his neck, and then my fingers threaded through his soft hair. His hands were aggressive but his kiss was gentle, almost as if he were savoring my mouth and our connection, like it was a balm to his wounds.

His hands gripped my hips, pulling me down onto him, the sensation rocketing through my body and causing a moan to slip from my mouth into his. Suddenly, wherever his hands touched was aflame, and I wanted him to burn me everywhere. I wanted the flames to lick my skin, the heat to eat me up, I wanted him to light me on fire and then smother the inferno, only to start all over again.

Another whimper broke free from me and it was as if something inside of Hayes that had been tightly wound, snapped. One arm wrapped tightly around my waist, the other hand cradled my neck, and the next instant I was being picked up then laid back down on the couch.

This was new. Lying with Hayes. Having his body leveled entirely along mine, having his weight press down on me, holding me in place; it was intoxicating. My knees instinctively fell to the sides, allowing him even closer to the core of me, and there was no pretense about it. I wanted the most private and sacred parts of me as close to him as possible, to feel all of him, to be as open to him as I possibly could be. It was a new feeling, a new revelation, to want someone that way. To want to be close to him, to give him unadulterated access. It’s not something I’d offered to anyone else. Ever.

Our bodies took over.

His lips were still pressed against mine, but they wandered down my neck, over my shoulder, against my collarbone, only to return. His hands roamed over my clothed body, trembling fingers smoothing over my stomach, my arms, my breasts, my hips. Every part of my body he touched completely ignited.

Then he ground his hips into mine and whatever I thought I knew about chemistry, about combustion, was thrown away. There simply wasn’t anything that existed before this. Before Hayes and his body touching mine, his body making mine feel so entirely electric.

I’d had an orgasm before, but the few times it had occurred I’d been alone. What was happening on that couch was more than I’d ever felt before. More frantic. More needy. More full. Every part of me was brimming with emotions and sensations I couldn’t process before a new wave hit me. With every grind of his hips, every pass of his lips, every sweep of his tongue, I was closer and closer to the edge of a cliff I knew would kill me to fall from. It was the biggest internal battle of my life. I wanted him to continue, feeling as though if he stopped touching me, stopped pressing all the hardness against me, I’d cease to exist. But I also knew if I didn’t stop him, I was going to come in a wildly unrestrained way I’d never experienced, and that was enough to make me stop him.