The Air He Breathes (Elements, #1)(33)

“Feeling your skin against my skin”—I slowly lifted his T-shirt—“reminds me of him.” My head tilted to the left, and I studied his facial structure. The sharp lines of his jaw, the tiny creases in the corners of his eyes. His breaths sawed in and out. Everyone in town was convinced that he ran so much because he was trying to run from his past, but that was far from the truth. He was trying to hold onto it daily. He hadn’t had any plans to become a true runner anytime soon. If he had been, his eyes wouldn’t have looked so pained. “Pretend with me for a little while,” I muttered before slowly brushing my lips across his. “Help me remember him tonight,” I whispered, a bit shy.

His hips pressed against mine, his eyes dilated. He placed his right hand behind my lower back, forcing me to thrust my body against his. I felt his hardness against my inner thigh and my body slowly began to grind against him. Yes. We moved to the closest wall. His left hand formed a fist and landed against the wall above my head. His brows drew closer and a deep, weighted sigh rolled through him. “We shouldn’t…”

Yes.

This time my mouth parted, and I softly bit his bottom lip as my hand rolled against the fabric of his sweats. My thumb circled the tip of his hardness. Yes, yes. He emitted a low growl and tightened his grip on my back. I watched as his tongue slowly slid from his mouth and ran against my neck, making me shiver inside. Do that again.

His hand trailed up under my dress, his touch landing against my inner thigh, and when he rolled his fingers against my wet panties, my heartbeats soared. Yes, yes, yes…

I moaned as he pulled the fabric of my panties to the side and slid a finger inside me.

Our mouths crashed together and he whispered a name, but I wasn’t certain that it was mine; I whispered one back, not positive that it was his. He was taking me all in as he kissed me hard, his tongue exploring every inch of me. He slid another finger deep inside me as his thumb circled my clit. “God, you feel so good…” he growled, feeling my tightness, my wetness…feeling me.

My hand slid into his boxers, and I began to stroke him up and down, squeezing lightly and listening to his growls of appreciation.

“Perfect,” he stuttered, his eyes closed, his breaths growing shorter and shorter. “Fucking perfect.”

It was bad.

But so, so good.

As my hand worked faster, his fingers sped up. We both panted together, losing ourselves, finding ourselves, losing our loved ones, finding our loved ones. In the moment, I loved him, because it felt like loving Steven. In the moment I hated him, because it was nothing more than a lie. But I couldn’t stop touching him. I couldn’t stop needing him. I couldn’t stop wanting him.

He and I together was a terrible idea. We were both unstable, we were both shattered, and there was no getting around it. He was thunder, I was lightning, and we were seconds away from creating the perfect storm.

“Mama,” a small voice said behind me. I took a big leap away from Tristan’s body, his fingers falling from me. I smoothed out my dress, flustered. My eyes shot down the hallway toward Emma, who was holding Bubba in her hand, yawning.

“Hey, baby. What’s going on?” I asked, wiping my hand over my lips. I hurried to her side.

“I can’t sleep. Can you come lie with Bubba and me?”

“Of course. I’ll be right there, okay?”

She nodded and dragged her feet back to her bedroom. When I turned to Tristan, I saw the guilt in his eyes as he readjusted his pants.

“I should go,” he whispered.

I nodded. “You should go.”





Chapter Sixteen


Tristan



We should’ve stopped that night. We should’ve realized how bad an idea it was for us to use each other to remember Steven and Jamie. We were our own ticking time bombs, and we were set to explode.

But we didn’t care.

Almost every day, she stopped by and kissed me.

Almost every day, I kissed her back.

She told me his favorite color. Green.

I told her Jamie’s favorite food. Pasta.

Some nights I climbed out of my bedroom window and straight into hers. Other nights, she crawled into my bed. When I entered her bed, she never turned the sheets down. She hardly allowed me on his side of the bed. I understood that more than anyone could’ve ever known.

She undressed me and made love to her past.

I slid into her and made love to my ghosts.

It wasn’t right, yet somehow it made sense.

Her soul was scarred, and mine was burned.

But when we were together, the hurting hurt a little less. When we were together, the past wasn’t as painful to take in. When we were together, I never for a second felt alone.





There were plenty of days when I was okay. There were a ton of times when the hurt was just hidden inside of me, but not punching me in the gut. But then there were the days of the big memories. Jamie’s birthday was one. It was Jamie’s birthday, and that night I struggled.

The past demons that were buried deep within my soul were slowly creeping out. Elizabeth showed up to my bedroom. I should’ve pushed her away. I should’ve allowed the darkness to swallow me whole.

But I can’t leave her alone.

Occasional flashes of tenderness and care traveled through the two of us as her body rested beneath mine. Her eyes shook me—they always did. Her hair fell against my pillow. “You’re stunning,” I whispered before wrapping my hand around her neck and lifting, allowing her mouth to find my lips.