“That’s not what I’m talking about.” His voice is hard.
“I don’t understand.”
“You were begging for it to stop.” His voice is pained. I turn in his arms and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You kept saying ‘no’.” I turn back on my side with my back to his chest and stare across the room.
“It was just a dream.” It’s the only answer I have for him.
“It was a memory.”
“What do you want from me?” I ask him with contempt. His grip on me tightens.
“I just want you to talk to me.” He pulls me into his chest and kisses my neck. His tender touch makes me relax.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” What can I say? They hurt me. I’m still getting over it. There. What more can I offer?
“You can’t just hide from this.” His voice is just barely more than a murmur.
“It’s not hiding; it’s moving on. That’s what you do. You move on.”
“How can you move on without giving yourself any time to grieve?”
“You want me to be sad?” I turn in his arms and keep far enough away to look straight into his eyes. “Not everyone grieves the same way. Some people take time to really grasp the reality. Others seek out humor and positivity. Then there are people who’d rather just leave what can’t be undone alone, and move forward with what they can change.” I search his face for his reaction, but he gives me nothing.
“I can’t change what happened to me. I’m only in charge of the present and my future. I learned that long ago. And I’m happy with that.”
“How can you move on so quickly?” His voice is laced with disbelief.
“I haven’t. Grief is a journey. It never ends.” Shock sparks in his eyes, and then understanding. If there is an end, I have yet to find it.
“How bad does it hurt?”
“The medicine is already working.” It is. My body already feels less tense, and the sharp pains have turned dull.
He shakes his head gently. “Not that pain.” My chest hurts from his words. My heart clenches, and tears prick behind my eyes.
“Some days, a lot. And some days I don’t even feel it.”
He nods his head. “Tell me.”
“I don’t want to,” I say and my throat’s hoarse, making my words crack. I don’t. I’ve tried to talk about it before; I just can’t.
“Well, there’s what happened because of me. That’s adding to it.”
“Yes. It is.” I can’t lie. I’m not fucking okay. What they did to me was horrific, and I’m shocked I survived it. But I survived because I fought. And I’m damned proud of that.
“And your ex,” he says softly, and guilt eats away at me. I should be grieving more for him. I turn away from him and settle my back against his chest. I’m not responding to that. I don’t want to.
“Doll?” he asks before kissing my neck. “You really think you’ll be alright?” I consider his words.
“Some days I’m overworked and high stressed, and I can’t seem to figure anything out. But I only need to make it one day at a time. Some moments I remember, and it’s too much. But most of the time I’m alright. I can be okay. I can live through this. I can continue to live through anything, I suppose.”
He’s quiet for a long time. So long I think maybe he fell asleep and I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me.
“I wish I could take it all away.” His chest vibrates against my back as I register his words.
“You do more than you know.” It’s true. I feel… alive. I haven’t felt so much in months. So much desire. I mostly just run through to-do lists. Other than that, there's just Jax. Jax has kept me sane. “Jax makes it all worth it, you know?” He makes me want to smile. And I read somewhere that if you smile enough, it will make you happy. You can’t help it. It’s biology or something. “If I didn’t have Jax, I don’t know that I would’ve survived it all.”
“I hope you know how strong you are, Becca.” Strong? I wouldn’t call myself strong. Tears prick at my eyes again. I don’t ever feel strong. I feel so weak. I feel like I’m holding on to nothing, grasping for a thread that’s taunting me. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I try to wipe them without him knowing. But he sees. He rises from behind me and kisses away the tears on my cheek and chin.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry, doll.” A heavy sob wracks through my body. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t want to cry. My throat closes as another sob leaves me, and I bury my face in my hands. “Let it out, doll. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” I turn in his arms and cry into his chest. His strong arms wrap around me and hold me close.
“You’re alright, doll. I’ve got you.” His hands run up and down my back in soothing strokes as he kisses my hair. His loving touch is so unexpected. Everything about him is unexpected.
His hot breath on my neck makes my entire body shiver. Another kiss, this time on the tender spot just below my ear. I feel wrapped in his presence. Secure in his embrace. Something in me cracks. My armor falls. I feel myself melt into him.
I feel a need to be comforted by him. A need I only caved to once years ago. It’s haunted me and left a deep hurt in my chest that I’ve grown used to. It tightens and twists, threatening to consume me. A mix of loneliness and insecurity. It fucking hurts. And feeling his arms around me, soothing me, the familiar pain pangs in my chest. I need this. I need him.
I feel a spark ignite deep in my core, and a haze of lust comes down around me. It's the same sensation when we first met in his office. My lips part at the memory of when he took me against the wall. I turn and push my breasts against his hard chest. My hand cups the back of his head, and my lips press against his gently. He moans into my mouth as his tongue tastes mine. His fingers spear my hair before fisting it at the nape of my neck. He pulls back, and his light blue eyes look deep into mine.
My breath hitches, and my body’s overcome with a feeling of ice pricking my heated nerve endings. A chill goes through me as he searches my face for something. Please don’t reject me. I need this. I whimper as he pulls my hair back and leaves open-mouth kisses along my jaw and down my neck.
Relief washes through me, and the heat in my core rages with need. I rock my pussy against his thigh for relief. His firm hand pushes my hip down onto the mattress as he climbs on top of me. He never lets up the kisses on my neck. His hands roam my body, down my waist, my hips. He parts my legs and settles between them and pulls back to look down on me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I close my eyes and drop my head against the pillow. I’m in dangerous territory. My heart is begging for more. I’m only going to end up hurt. I know it. But I want it. I want him. I need him.
I open my eyes and find him shirtless, his ripped abs and corded muscles enhanced by the shadows in the dark. His hands grip my hips before traveling up my belly, his thumbs pulling my shirt. I lift my back and let him pull the shirt over my head, baring myself to him. His mouth immediately comes down as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and palms my other breast. His hot tongue massages my hardened peak and my back arches, pushing more of myself into him.