Messy Love(71)

“Is he going to be okay?’’

“He’s walked home way drunker before,’’ he mumbled from behind his hands.

“I wasn’t talking about that.’’

“I know. Shit.’’ He sat back in his chair and gazed at me before he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his strong body, enveloping me with his warmth. “Don’t worry about him. If there’s something Ralph knows how to do is to get back on his feet. Maybe now he won’t let that bitch play with him.’’

“You don’t like her much, do you?’’

“She's made him feel like shit, like he’s not worth more than a night with her. He was ready to do so damn much for her, but she had always been throwing him away whenever she met someone she deemed a right fit for her. But when she wants some wild nights, guess who she calls?’’

“Why does he go back to her then?’’

“Who the fuck knows!’’ He took a deep breath against my hair and placed a soft kiss on my temple. “I’ve tried to open his eyes, but it’s been a tough subject. He’s going to drink and party harder, grab a random girl to fuck and then after a week or so he’ll go back to his usual self. Same MO every-fucking-time.’’

“He’s hurting.’’

“When you hurt, you have to face it on your own. That’s the only way to get over it.’’

“It doesn’t hurt to have someone in your corner to help you through it."

“But nobody else knows your pain, Marissa. It’s yours to bear.’’

“That’s because you don’t let people all the way in,’’ I replied and placed a hand on his chest, right on top of his beating heart. My smile was soft and sad, but I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I faced the table, dropped my hand from his chest and grabbed my drink for a refreshing sip.

“You’re in.’’

Our eyes clashed and held then. How could I look away?

My heart beat so hard in my chest, the rhythm so hopeful my whole self warmed up until my blood boiled to the point that nothing else existed.

“Let’s go to my place, sweet thing.’’

He didn’t wait for my nod to stand up.

***





WYATT


I had gone through a lot in my life, and it had started early on. Over the years it made me wary of opening up to other people, to let someone all the way in. Marissa was different.

She buried herself in me over time, quickly working her way through piles of bullshit and wading until she settled in my stupidly hopeful heart.

It’s time I showed her, even if I couldn’t use words to tell her. She took a chance on me even after I had hurt her, fully intending to hurt her. I owed her honesty and another part of me that was hers anyway.

Heart beating, eyes full of her, I watched as she walked backward in my bedroom. For each step I took, she backed further into the room. Soon, she bumped into the bed. Her eyes didn’t waver from mine, they flashed with need then, so stark it pushed away my nerves, but didn’t ease the trembling in my limbs or slow down my heart that created a particular song under my ribcage, a song that followed Marissa’s rhythm.

I would tell her how beautiful she looked right now with the streetlight shedding a glow around her, how she took my breath away and made me hope for something special in our future, but I couldn’t form words. My jaw was shut tight, and my eyes did all the talking.

One more step and I stood right before Marissa, so close her breasts brushed my chest when she took a deep breath, the sound loud even through my buzzing ears and the beats of my heart that seemed to echo through me.

I wanted to grab her, to throw her on the bed, strip off her clothes and fuck her until she screamed and my muscles seized with pleasure, but I didn’t.

I stared at her, deep into her eyes until everything else faded away, until she stopped fidgeting and she saw only me, felt only me, thought of only about me. Only then did I touch her.

The shock of the warm skin on her forearm made me hiss, and her gasp made me tremble. And still, I didn’t grab her. I let the tip of my fingers trail up her arms. My eyes fell on her skin, away from her eyes full of lust to focus on the goosebumps that raised her skin and her small hands clenched into two small and tight fists.

“What are you doing?’’ she asked in a whisper that broke on another gasp as I bypassed the sleeves of her t-shirt to trace her collarbone, a touch so slow and soft I barely recognized myself or the way I burst with the need to worship this woman like she had never been worshipped before.

I shook my head and bent down to press my forehead against hers, cupping her jaw in my hands. I closed my eyes and breathed her in, taking stock of her fruity scent from her body wash or lotion, and the scent that was Marissa that got more pronounced between the sheets.

“Wyatt?’’

“Shh…’’ I caressed her cheeks with my thumbs and sucked on her pouty lower lip, that damn lip that drove me insane even in the dark hours of the night. Her moan, strong, shook her. Her hands found their way to my waist, balling my shirt and tugging it as if she wanted it gone.

I released her lip. It was red and swollen, a beacon to get me to kiss her more, to make her beg for it. But that wasn’t what I wanted right now.