My lifeline.
I bury my head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent into my lungs and letting it fill me with warmth.
With strength.
With life.
Then the guilt comes. It slams into me like a train wreck, almost bringing me to my knees. Guilt that I’m here, that I get to escape while my sister still has to stay at our family home. Guilt that having Yasmin in my arms brings me peace, patching up the holes that have appeared in my chest since the day I let her go back to campus. Guilt that I’m living while my mother is dying.
Unshed tears of anger, frustration, and pain burn my eyes, but I squeeze them shut, refusing to let them fall, refusing to break, as I tighten my hold on Yasmin.
“Shh…” Yasmin whispers soothingly, her hands stroking my back. “I’m here.”
She says it over and over again, swaying us slowly from side to side in a slow dance. She doesn’t try to appease me with false promises and lies. She’s just… here. Holding me together, while all I want to do is fall apart.
I’m not sure how long we cling to each other. It could be minutes, it could be hours.
But after a while, I finally pull back just enough so I can see her face. I cup her cheek, tucking her wild hair behind her ear.
“I need you,” I repeat softly, needing her to understand.
Just… needing her.
Those dark eyes look at me with the understanding only two people who know the loss can comprehend. “You have me. I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
I stare at her, letting myself get lost in her bottomless gaze.
“Make me forget.”
I don’t care if it’s just for a little while; even if it’s just seconds without this constant ache, I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever she wants to give me, for as long as she does. Because somehow Yasmin Hernandez has gotten under my skin. She’s become the equivalent of all the good things in my life, and I’ll keep taking until she has nothing left to give, like the selfish, greedy bastard I am. Because one day, she’ll figure it out, and she’ll go away, and I’ll be left in the constant darkness, lost without my light.
Her hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me down for a soft kiss. Her lips nip at mine without hurry, savoring every single second that our mouths are pressed together.
Placing her free hand against my chest, she nudges me backward until the back of my knees touches the edge of her bed.
Giving one final nip, she breaks the kiss. I groan in protest, which has her lips tip up in a half-smile as she sneaks her hand under the hem of my shirt, helping me pull it up and over my head.
We don’t say a word as she undresses me. I toe off my shoes as her steady hands work on getting me out of my jeans. Once she’s done, I step out of them and kick them to the side, getting rid of my socks in the process.
Yasmin pulls her own shirt over her head, her perky tits bouncing since she’s not wearing a bra. Her nipples are already puckered, and I can’t help but cup the swell of her tits, brushing my thumb over the sensitive flesh.
A moan rips from deep in her throat. Her head falls back, exposing the line of her neck. Leaning down, I lick the revealed skin, my lips pressing against her racing pulse.
“Nixon,” she pants, her hand brushing against the swell of my hard dick, making me throb at the need to feel her.
All of her.
Completely.
Unabashedly.
Mine.
Yasmin pushes against my chest, making me fall back on the bed. I bounce off the mattress and watch her pull down her shorts and panties in one go, leaving her completely bare.
I feast my eyes on her.
God, she’s beautiful.
So utterly beautiful.
The light of the lamp plays on her naturally tanned skin, giving it a golden, sun-kissed hue. Yasmin pulls off her hairband, shaking her hair loose. Transfixed, I watch it fall down her back in a cascade of dark curls. They call to me, making my fingers itch to thread through them and feel their softness.
A smile curves Yasmin’s lips as she slowly moves closer.
She’s all lean muscles and long, runner’s legs. Her tits bounce softly with every step she takes. The generous swell that is more than a handful narrows to a slender waist, and the curves of her hips that just call for my hands to grip them.
She calls to me.
Every single inch of her was made for me. My hands, my mouth, my dick.
Yasmin climbs on the bed, her knees falling on both sides of my hips, her pussy hovering just over my cock. So close that I can feel her heat, but not close enough to touch. Her fingers trace my abs and chest, exploring the ridges and hollows of my body, making this need inside me grow stronger. I tangle my fingers in her hair, feeling its softness. I pull it back so I can see her face. There is lust in her gaze as she worships my body. And then her tongue joins in, licking and sucking as she moves upwards. Her tongue flicks over my nipple, nails grazing my skin.
Yasmin lifts her gaze, her dark, passion-filled eyes finding mine. I pull her closer, our mouths meeting in an open-mouthed kiss. Her lips part, and my tongue slides inside. Tasting, sucking, swirling.
With her free hand she fists my dick, working its length in painfully slow strokes.
“I need you,” I rasp, my fingers tightening in her strands. If I don’t have her soon, I feel like I’m going to burst. But Yasmin has other ideas.
“Shhh…” The tip of her finger presses against my mouth, effectively shushing me.
I suck it into my mouth, and my eyes go wide at the musky scent of her coating my tongue. Yasmin just smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes. She knows damn well what she’s doing to me.
Letting her finger pop out of my mouth, I slide my tongue over my lower lip. “No more games,” I grunt. Putting my hands on her hips, I pull her over me. Our bodies are pressed together like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.
I crush my mouth over hers without mercy, letting her taste her lingering sweetness on my tongue.
She moans her approval, hips grinding over mine, her pussy sliding over my erection until I’m completely coated in her juices.
“Condom,” I bite, barely holding it together.
I can’t wait, not one second longer. If I do, I’m going to spill my load all over her like a fourteen-year-old boy who got his hands on his first Playboy magazine.
Yasmin grazes her teeth over her swollen lip, her eyes fixed on mine.
“I’m on the pill.” I halt at her soft confession, not believing I heard her correctly. Then she quickly adds, “And I’m clean.”
I inhale sharply, but there isn’t enough air to fill my lungs.
I haven’t ever gone without a condom, didn’t even think about it. It was instilled in me early on that it was just one of the things you never do. Not if you aren’t ready to be responsible for possible consequences. But with Yasmin…
“Are you sure?” She nods once before I can even finish my question. I push a runaway lock behind her ear. “I’m clean too. There hasn’t been anyone. Not since…”
Not since her.
Her lip pops out, and I lean in to kiss her, licking over it to ease the sting away. Our mouths connect in a hard kiss. Yasmin’s fingers dig into my hair, threading through the strands and tugging my head back.
“I’m sure,” she breathes against my mouth. Yasmin leans forward, pressing her mouth against my neck, just under my ear. “Make love to me, Nixon.”