Secret Lucidity(44)

Attempting to act as calm as possible, I nod, but I can’t seem to relax my legs that are trembling against his hips.

“You’re not okay; you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.” I can only manage those two words, so I press my hands into his back, needing him to keep going.

But he doesn’t, and my heart sinks when I see his face drop. “Tell me you’ve done this before.” When I respond with nothing but embarrassment in my eyes, he backs away from me with a self-deprecating, “Fuck,” muttered beneath his breath as he turns to sit on the edge of the bed.

Feeling much younger than I am, I sit up and pull the sheets to cover my naked body.

“When you told me about your ex . . . I just assumed . . .”

“I’m sorry.”

“So you weren’t even going to tell me?” he says, looking over his shoulder at me. “Jesus, Cam.”

“I-I didn’t know wh—”

“Fuck,” he sighs for the second time, dropping his head in his hands after he rips the condom off.

If I weren’t naked, I’d already be in my car, driving home, but instead, I’m scorched in shame as I watch his reaction.

“Cam, we shouldn’t—I mean, I shouldn’t be the one to . . .”

I pull my knees to my chest, feeling my heart hollow from his rejection. The draining of goodness that he’s given me over the past several months pangs dreadfully, and the heat of tears threaten when I think about losing him.

A drop of vulnerable insecurity falls.

“God, babe, don’t cry,” he says, coming back to me and wrapping his arms around my balled up form.

I swallow hard, refusing to let another tear escape.

With my head pressed against his shoulder, he says, “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“You didn’t,” I tell him before adding, “I want this . . . with you.”

He squeezes a little tighter. “Why?”

The answer comes immediately, but I hesitate to reveal what I’ve been so reluctant to admit. When I stall for too long, he draws back and looks me in the eyes. I know he can see the words I’m keeping back, but he still presses. “Tell me why.”

Holding on to what I know is tethering us together, I give him my honest truth when I admit, “Because I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He releases a heavy breath at my confession and kisses me softly before looking deep into my eyes. “I love you, Cam.” His voice is thick. “But this isn’t something we need to rush into. I don’t want to throw your age into this because I don’t look at you that way. I need you to know that. We’re in this together, but your first time is a big deal.”

“You act as if I don’t know that,” I say, hurt disguised as accusation bleeding into my words. “Like I don’t know how important this is.”

“That’s not it. Not even close. I know you’re self-aware, but I also know you’ve been dealing with a lot, and I just want to make sure your eyes are open.”

“They’re open. And even with all that’s happened, I know how I feel about you, and I know that it’s real.”

He swallows all doubt the moment his mouth falls to mine in an amorous kiss. A kiss only he’s capable of because it’s everything that I need right now. A kiss that heals on impact.

Without parting his lips from mine, he questions, “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.”

Because, what are we doing?

We’re forbidden and scandalous, hidden behind lies and the protection of these walls. Fourteen years separated in a world of unforgiving judgment. And yet, here we are, feeding at the mouth of sin and sacrosanct. What I feel for this man is something that the law and social standards couldn’t possibly comprehend. This is so much more. It’s unable of description, solely ours to have and understand.

Yet, we don’t.

Because we can’t.

We’re broken and bound, and when he slips back under the covers, I cling to him as he says, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

He stares down at me with uncertainty etched in the lines on his forehead. “Are you sure, because we don’t have to? I’m okay waiting.”

“What would we be waiting for?”

“I don’t know,” he says, taking a slight pause. “Until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready. I’m just . . . I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that. If we’re doing this, you can’t shy away from me.”

With mounting feelings of inadequacy, I struggle to grasp on to my words as he shifts and settles his weight next to mine on the bed.

Lying on our sides, he runs his hand over the curve of my hip and around to the small of my back before pressing our bodies together. Bared to each other with nothing between us, he tells me again, “I love you. And I need you to know that I’m not just saying that because I want to have sex with you. I’ve felt this way for a while now. But if this is what you want, I need you to talk to me, because the last thing I want to do is fuck this up for you.”

“I’m nervous,” I breathe.

“We’ll do this at your pace, okay?”

I nod as he starts to drop damp kisses behind my ear and down my neck. I take in a deep breath, relieved to be going into this without that burdening secret on my shoulders. He takes his time, and I relax more as we start to move together. His hands slowly touch and soothe while his mouth tastes and suckles, but a part of me still remains apprehensive.