She shuffles closer, taking her other hand and setting it on my waist. Desire comes over me like a wave crashing on the shore and I lose the shred of self-control I was holding onto.
I put my lips to Sierra’s, gently cupping her face. She hesitates for a second and then she kisses me back.
And neither one of us can stop.
Sierra’s arms wrap around me, holding me as close as she can. I kiss her hard, hands moving down to the hem of her dress. I pull it up, and then take hold of her legs, lifting her up and pressing her against a bookshelf. Sierra wraps her legs around me and moves her lips from mine to my neck. She sucks on my skin and rakes her fingers through my hair.
I move one of the straps of her dress off her shoulders, watching as the fabric slides down, and cup her breast in my hand. My cock hardens against her, and Sierra lets out a moan as she feels it, pushing her core against me.
I press her harder against the shelf, using one hand to bunch up her dress. She widens her legs and throws her head back as I kiss her neck. The shelf wobbles and books fall around us, but that doesn’t stop us.
I’ve never wanted someone more than I want Sierra at this moment. I want to make her feel because it makes me feel, and for once, nothing hurts. Everything feels right.
She reaches down, trying to undo my pants. I slip both hands around her legs and move so she can undo my belt, sliding it out of the loops and dropping it on the floor. She takes my lip between her teeth as she pops the button on my pants. Her fingers are just inches away from my dick, and I push her against the shelf again in order to reposition us.
A picture frame comes crashing down, glass shattering as it hits the shelf below, and then crashes onto the floor. Sierra tenses and turns her head away.
Shit.
The photo that fell was the picture of her with Jake that I saw just minutes ago. I look down at the floor. Broken glass lies in shards around my feet, and Jake and Sierra’s smiling faces stare up at us. Jaw tense, I move my gaze back to Sierra’s. Her green eyes are wide with horror.
And then she laughs.
“Sorry,” she says. “It’s not funny at all. I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s just…you’re the first person I’ve kissed since Jake died and his photo falls from the shelf and cuts me.”
“You got cut?”
“I think so. I felt something fly up and hit me when the glass shattered.” She inhales and looks over my shoulder at her foot. Her legs are still around me and I don’t want to let go.
“Yep. I’m bleeding.”
There’s no panic in her voice, no sign that she’s in really any pain at all, yet knowing that she got cut upsets me more than I thought it would. I tighten my grip on her, look down at the broken glass. Carefully stepping over it, I move to the rainbow-colored carpet in the middle of the room and gently set Sierra down. Her eyes are on the broken photo frame and a tear rolls down her cheek.
“Sorry,” she says and quickly wipes it away.
“Don’t be,” I whisper, crouching down next to her so I can look at the jagged cut on her ankle. The ache in my heart turns to anger. This isn’t how things were supposed to turn out. The Mystery Woman was supposed to find happiness again. She wasn’t supposed to struggle and hurt for this long.
“It doesn’t look that deep,” I go on, gently wiping away a bead of blood with my fingertip. “I’ll clean it for you and make sure there’s no glass inside the wound.”
She nods, still looking at the broken frame. I stand and reach out to her to help her to her feet. “Thank you, Chase.”
“Do you have a first aid kit and tweezers?”
Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare. “I do, but I don’t like the sound of this. Won’t it just work its way out on its own?”
“Maybe. Or maybe the skin will grow over it and you’ll have an infected piece of glass inside your body.”
“I’ve had worse things inside me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really now?”
She quickly shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure,” I say with a smirk. I help her to her feet and follow her into the kitchen. I get her first aid kit from under the counter and wash the cut, then give Sierra an ice cube to hold on the wound for a minute before I go in with the tweezers and pick out the shard of glass.
“Have you done this before?” she asks, looking away as I gently pull her torn flesh apart.
“A few times. Though never from a broken picture frame.”
I can feel her eyes on me, and I know she’s curious. “Got it,” I say, holding up the tweezers. A tiny piece of bloody glass is between them. I put it on a napkin, and then clean up the cut and put a bandage over it. “Good as new.”
“Thank you, Chase. There’s no way I could have done that myself. I don’t mind blood or guts or anything, but digging glass out of my own skin is a giant nope.”
“It’s harder to do that kind of stuff to yourself. Pain makes most people hesitate, and it can be hard to inflict pain on yourself, even when necessary.”
“Most people,” she echoes, looking at me as if she can see the darkness within. “But not you?”
I shrug. “I learned a long time ago that you should do what needs to be done.” My hands are still on Sierra’s smooth leg.
“I should clean up the glass,” she says but doesn’t move her leg off my lap. “The cats might walk in it. And picking glass out of their paws won’t be this easy.”
I go with her, helping her sweep up the mess. She puts it in a bag, and we go outside to put it in her recycling bin. She turns to go back inside, and I hesitate. I’m not good with feelings. Being sensitive has never been my thing. The whole situation with being the first man Sierra’s been with since her boyfriend died…yeah…I have no fucking clue how to handle it.
But I do know that no matter what, I want to make Sierra happy.
“I can go if you want me to.”
Her lips part, eyes mirroring the desperation I feel inside. “I don’t want you to.”
“Then I’ll stay.” Stepping forward, I take Sierra in my arms. She rests her head against my chest.
“Okay,” she says softly, staying wrapped in my arms. The night is alive and a half-moon shines in the sky, dotted with sparkling stars. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It almost feels like home.
“Is that the river?” I ask, turning my head and looking at the trees behind her house.
“Yeah.” She twists and follows my gaze. “The same one that goes by your place. We’re not that far apart, actually. If the road went straight from my house to yours, it would only take a few minutes to get to you.”
“I’d like that.” I inch my fingers along the silky fabric of her dress. “Josh tried to convince me that was the Mississippi River when I was a kid. I believed him.”
That brings a smile to Sierra’s face. “I told my cousin the same thing. My family on my mom’s side is from Connecticut. They hate coming here. My cousins are all stuck-up and judgmental. It was fun making them feel stupid. Which makes me sound awful, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Because they are awful. Trust me.”