Left Drowning(95)

“We have.” Chris retrieves the towels that are hanging over the top of the wall and hands one to me.

“It’s funny.” I think for a bit as I dry off my hair. “You almost never walk out on the dock and you never go in the ocean. You did the first day I met you, though. Remember? You waded into the lake. But you hardly even get your feet wet now.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“And … ?”

He hesitates. “I have a love-hate relationship with water.”

He has just voiced something that I’ve thought about myself many times. I take his towel and wrap it around his neck. He looks sad now.

“When you’re ready, you can tell me about that.”

He nods.

“Whatever you want to tell me, it’s going to be okay. You’re not going to scare me off. I promise you.”

“You say that now.” He rubs a hand over his eyes. “You say that now.”

“I’ll say that forever.” I hug him tightly. For the first time in a year and a half, I slide my left arm to the place on his back, the place where we fit so incomprehensibly perfectly. “I know what it’s like when we’re together. I don’t know why that is, but even here it’s happening. It’s because you were with me that I remembered this house before we went inside.”

“Blythe, I think that’s a little farfetched, don’t you?”

“Christopher, listen to me.” I put my hands on either side of his head so that he can’t turn away. I want him to really hear this. “When we are together, the world gets sharper, the past becomes unobstructed, and … the floodgates open. You can’t pretend that didn’t happen to me; you saw me reconstruct the fire from memories that I didn’t know I had. It’ll happen to you, too. You’ll reconstruct your own fire.”

“Now you listen to me. The future is sharper and unobstructed. That’s how the floodgates are opening.”

“Either way, I won’t leave. We ran away from each other before. Mostly, you ran. I’m ready for this now. Are you?”

“To move ahead with you? Yes.” He swipes his tongue over my mouth and whispers in my ear. “To take you to bed forever? Yes. To make you come in my mouth, to feel you writhe under me while I slide my cock inside you? Yes. To listen to you scream and beg me to stop because I can’t get enough of you? Absolutely. Am I ready to focus on giving you levels of pleasure that you’ve never even dreamed about? Yeah. I’m ready.”

I laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” He holds me against him. “I’m here.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


Reaching


I only have on a T-shirt, no underwear, but Chris is fully dressed. We’re in my bed, and I’m sitting between his legs with my back resting against his chest and my legs draped over his. The room is dark, but the television is on because some movie that Chris is obsessed with just started. We’ve been sitting this way for the last half hour since we got into bed not long after dinner. There’s just enough light from the flickering screen for me to watch his hand. He’s lightly moving his palm over my thigh, up and down, his hand just next to but never touching between my legs. He’s already been doing this to me for a while. Too long. And with the way we’re sitting, I can’t get my hand on his cock. Which I want more than anything.

For the past month we’ve been screwing our brains out. And making love. And then screwing our brains out again. I’m concerned that I’ve become some kind of deranged sex addict. The good news is that we seem to be able to leave the bedroom long enough to scrounge for survival items, like food. And lube and condoms. There was the one time that Chris made Sabin go to the store and throw the box up to us through the window, but mostly we’ve done our own errands. We’ve given up trying to be quiet, although we sometimes replace our noise with loud music. Our other housemates seem to have developed a high tolerance for our noise level. The downside is that I’m not in much of a position to complain about the noise that Estelle and James make at night. And admittedly, they are sort of cute together. It’s funny to see my brother fussing over a girl the way he tends to Estelle, and it’s even funnier to see her let him, but they genuinely seem to care about each other. As for me, I am so completely in love that it feels like nothing else matters.

I turn my head a little to the side and feel Chris softly kiss the top of my head while his hand keeps teasing me with his soft strokes. Then he finally puts his hand between my legs, and I shudder. All he has to do is touch me once like this and my mind starts swimming. I picture us hot and f*cking hard… . I think about how his cock feels as he drives into me over and over… . I want that heated moment just before he comes, when I’m grabbing onto him and we’re both gasping and moaning. It’s like I have a reel of porn of the two of us that plays over in my head. Flashes of what we’ve done. What else we might do.

Because he’s so good—so perfect—he makes me greedy and impatient. Maybe if he f*cked me a few hundred more times it might be easier for me to stay in the slower moments. Even then …

But right now my endgame involves sweat, and cum, and plenty of noise, and I want to get there. I curl my hips up to push against his hand, but he pulls away a bit. Chris leans his head down and whispers to me slowly, “Don’t move yet.”