Being Me(Inside Out 02)(4)

My eyes meet his and even in the deep haze of the shadows I feel the connection between us, the depths of his feelings for me. Chris has layers I don’t pretend to understand, but he cares about me and I want him to see what I failed to show him last night. I want to understand him. I want him, all of him, including those parts I made him feel I can’t deal with.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Now that you’re here, I’m okay.”
I’ve barely spoken the words when his mouth closes over mine, and I can taste his urgency, his fear, which I recognize now as my own, a fear that after our visit to Mark’s club, we’d never be here, like this, again. I arch into him, drinking in his passion, instantly, willingly consumed by all that he is and could be to me.
A dark seed of something that started back in the storage unit, or maybe last night in the club, tries to surface, something my mind refuses to accept. Desperate to escape what I do not want to face, I do what I never dare, and lose myself in the moment. I feel myself sinking deeper into passion, lost in the heat burning low in my belly, the desire spreading slick and hot, between my thighs. There is nothing but the slide of Chris’s tongue against mine, the taste and scent of him, the feel of his hands molding me possessively against his body. I need this. I need him.
I shove my hands under his shirt, absorbing the hot feel of taut skin over hard muscle, pressing closer to him. A rough sound of desire rumbles in his chest, and I revel in his pleasure, his desire for me, at the way his hands slide down my back, over my backside, before he pulls me hard against his groin. I lick into his mouth as I feel his erection thick against my stomach, and something just snaps inside me. I don’t care where I am. I don’t know where I am. I just want Chris. I cannot stop touching him, tasting him. We are all over each other and I am lost. And still, it’s not enough to keep that dark seed at bay. I need something… more. I need …
“Sara.”
I gasp as Chris tears his mouth from mine and my name is a rasp of heat and desire torn from his throat. With no concept of how much time has passed, I’m against the wall and I don’t remember how I got there, nor do I care. I try to kiss Chris again. His fingers tunnel into my hair, holding me back, and he is breathing as hard as I am. “We have to stop before I get us arrested. And right now, it wouldn’t take much to risk it just to be inside you.”
Yes. Please. Chris inside me, filling me. I crave that more than my next breath. I blink up at him, dazed but not confused about what I want, which is him. Now. Here. But the sound of an engine, and the laughter of a child, blast through me with a
jolt that stiffens my spine. Everything that’s happened in the past hour rushes over me and balls into a tight knot in my stomach.
I am appalled that I have forgotten where I am, and the urgency of needing to secure Rebecca’s things.
I splay my hand over the warm heat of Chris’s chest. “I forgot the time.” I’m panting. How can I not be with this man’s hips ground to mine, promising the kind of sweet escape I know he can give me? I push thoughts through the haze of lust. “I forgot to lock the unit. I have to get back before the main building is locked and I can’t.” I want to tell him everything that has happened. He’s the only person I can talk to about my fears for Rebecca, but I instinctively know he will flip out and ask too many questions when I have no time. I have to get to the storage unit quickly. “Can you follow me over? I need to hurry.” I don’t wait for an answer. I slide along the wall to make my escape and ineffectively try to dart around him.
His hand settles on the wall by my head, caging me in.
“What do you need from Rebecca’s storage unit this late at night?” His jaw is set in that stubborn way I am coming to know, and despite its meaning, a part of me revels that I am coming to know him.
I brush my hand over the dark blond stubble on his jaw responsible for the delicious rasp on my cheek. “Can I explain on the way over? Please, Chris? I really don’t want to get sealed out of the main building.”
His keen stare cuts through the darkness and, damn it, I was right in my assumption. He’s steel, unmoving. Unwilling to let me escape without explanation. “What haven’t you told me, Sara?”
“In case you don’t know, you can be very overbearing, Chris. I’ll tell you on the way over.”
“Tell me now.”
“They’ll lock the building, Chris.”
He doesn’t move. Right. Of course not. Chris is always in control. Not always, a voice in my head says, and I remember him offering me his shirt to keep me from feeling insecure about my nudity when he was still dressed. In small but important ways he shares the power with me.