Chapter 23 Max
Chapter 23
Max
The following evening, I dream of a sunlit horse farm.
Ribbons of gold glimmer off alfalfa fields and chocolate-brown manes as I cast my gaze around the setting. The sweet scent of leather and hay mingles with manure, and I step toward a red barn towering in the distance. Three horses graze behind a locked fence where a girl stands in a bright-orange sundress and straw hat. She’s petting one of the horses, humming a lullaby. The melody floats to my ears, sounding haunting.
I keep moving forward, curious about the girl.
Wanting to see her face.
Her hair is tucked into the hat, hiding the color. I call out to her but no sound leaves my mouth. It’s a silent plea. Only her eerie ballad echoes in my ears as my feet pick up their pace and I break into a run.
She hears me approaching.
She senses me, even though I can’t speak. I can’t sing with her. I can’t do anything but run, my heart boomeranging in my chest and my boots burrowing in mud.
The moment she spins to face me with the brim of the hat shielding her eyes, the image dissipates. I’m pulled away by something.
Startled, I open my eyes as reality sinks into me and I’m lying in my bed, the room dark, my mind muddy. I blink myself awake as a cool wind whips through the open window and chills my bare skin. My vision is blurry as it adjusts to the haze of black.
And then the scent of citrus wafts around me. Orange honeysuckle and clean shampoo.
The mattress shifts with an added weight.
I lurch to a sitting position and twist my head left, my eyes meeting with Ella’s through the dark. “Ella? What…” My voice trails off.
She’s crying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words raspy. “I had…a nightmare.”
“Shit. Come here.” I don’t hesitate in wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her against my chest. She collapses onto me, warm tears slicking my skin. “It’s okay, Sunny. It’s okay.”
Sniffling, she reaches for one of my hands and holds on tight. “I had a dream that…h-he killed you.”
“Who?”
“Jonah.”
Closing my eyes through the pang in my chest, I squeeze her hard. “I’m here. It was just a bad dream.”
“It felt so real.” She shakes her head, her sweet-smelling hair tickling my chin. “I thought it was real.”
“It wasn’t real. He’s in jail and he’s never getting out.”
She cries harder, jabbing her nose against the crook of my neck. “He stabbed you,” she whispers, splaying her fingers over my heart. “Right here. And then you were bleeding. Dropping to your knees in front of me. I tried to run to you but my legs were frozen. My shoes were stuck like glue to the floor. All I could do was watch.”
“Shh.” I kiss the top of her head. “It was just a dream.”
“I woke up terrified,” she says. “I had to see you. Touch you. Know for certain you were still here.”
“I’m here.”
When her tears subside to addled breaths, she lifts up and sweeps her fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t be. You can always climb through my window.”
A sad smile crests as a quiet beat passes. Then she whispers, “The bicycle was from you.”
Swallowing, I nod, holding her tighter. I was wondering when she’d bring that up. “Yes.”
“Why? We weren’t even friends then.”
“Weren’t we? I seem to recall you asking for my hand in friendship at the clearing the day of the bonfire.” Hesitating, I retract that. “No…we were friends long before that. I saw you in the schoolyard reading a book when I was seven years old. You smiled at me. And that was all it took.”
Her irises glitter in the soft glow of moonlight, lashes fluttering thoughtfully. “Thank you for the bike, Max.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ella props her chin on my shoulder and lifts her puffy eyes to me. “Do you really sleep naked?” Her gaze dips to the white sheet pulled up over my hips, then flicks back up.
“Boxers only.”
She swallows, glancing away. “I should probably go.”
I don’t want her to go. She smells like citrus and feels like sunshine. Her palm still rests atop my chest, grazing lightly over my ribs. Her breath warms the side of my neck. One of her legs is twined with mine beneath the covers and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
When her breathing placates and her hand stops moving, I tilt my head until my temple kisses the top of hers. “Stay,” I whisper.
But she’s already asleep.
***
It’s still dark and quiet when my eyelids peel open and I stir from a dreamless sleep. There’s an added weight draped over me. A drowsy smile tips my lips as I stretch, my limbs stiff but my heart an elastic band of contentment.
Ella rouses beside me, the arm across my chest sliding up until her hand is in my hair and her body is spooning my side. The repositioning has her leg lifting higher until it grazes against the steel rod in my boxers. Shit. Maybe I was dreaming, after all.
Must’ve been a good dream.
She freezes when she notices, because it’s impossible not to notice.
I hear her breath hitch, feel the shaky little gasp against my neck as she stills beside me. The moment is charged, heavy. I’m wide awake now, staring up at the stretch of black ceiling. I don’t move. I’m afraid to touch her, considering I’m half-naked and rock-hard in my bed with the girl of my dreams fused against me.
She’s breathing heavily, husky and ragged. When she presses a tiny kiss to the skin below my ear, I nearly convulse. My fists clench tightly as one knee draws up beneath the covers. Swallowing hard, I inhale a flimsy breath and close my eyes, waiting to see what she does next.
She kisses me again, lingering longer. Then again. Tugging on my hair with her right hand, she lifts up higher to kiss the side of my jaw. She peppers kisses down the bristled edge and makes an achy little sighing sound.
And when her tongue pokes out, I lose it.
I turn my head, bury my fist in her hair, and crush my mouth to hers.
Ella melts into the kiss with a groan, her leg coiling around me in a needy clutch, her boy shorts riding up her legs. She whimpers, moans. She grinds herself into me as I groan right back, our parted mouths pressed together for a moment of stopped time. When her hand releases a fistful of my hair, she drags it down my torso and brushes it over my hardness. I almost die. I’d put money on the fact that my soul leaves my body for one weightless, divine second and levitates through the paneled ceiling.
“Ella,” I rasp, pulling back and squeezing my eyes shut as she strokes me through my boxers. I’m scared as shit that I’m going to come. No one’s ever touched me there before, save for my own hand. I turn on the pillow until we’re face-to-face, her wide, glassy eyes meeting with mine. Moonlight pours in from the open window, highlighting her flushed cheeks and static-mussed hair.
I glance down at her heaving chest cased in a peachy tank top. Pebbled nipples poke through the thin layer of fabric and the animal inside of me reacts. A growl rumbles in my throat as I reach for the hem of her top and start dragging it up her body. Ella gasps again, removing her hand to help me discard it. Seconds fly by as the shirt is tossed to the floor and her milky-white breasts are at eye level. Inching down the mattress, I palm both breasts with my hands and lurch forward, taking her nipple in my mouth.
“Max…oh my God…” she moans, arching her back, pressing into me as she latches onto my biceps.
I nip and suck, then move to the other breast. She is all soft skin and sun-kissed daydreams. Ropes of long hair cascade over her breasts, and when I’m out of breath I grab a handful and pull myself back up, inhaling deep and diving back at her mouth. Both of her arms wrap around my shoulders and yank me as close as I can get. Her leg curls around me until I’m pressed between her thighs and her chest is smashed to mine.
Her head falls back at the contact. “Max,” she moans. “Touch me.”
I don’t hesitate.
We’re both inexperienced, but inexperience means nothing when you’re fueled by need. Guided by raw feeling. Everything feels right. Every touch, every new discovery, makes sense. Hands simply know where to go and limbs tangle accordingly, while lips and tongues dance in an age-old rhythm.
I slide my hand inside the waistband of her shorts and stroke the damp piece of fabric between her legs.
She cries out.
My other hand whips out to cover her mouth, to hold back the shriek that will have my brother or father barreling into the room, destroying the moment. And that will destroy me . I will absolutely drop dead if Ella is forced from my bed before I can make her come.
Her eyes pop over my hand when I slip my fingers into her underwear. She moans helplessly against my hand before I slowly pull my palm back and drop my forehead to hers.
I close my eyes through a low groan as my finger dips inside of her and starts to pump, in and out. Silken warmth tears through me. Velvet fire. Our faces are centimeters apart on my pillow and her warm breaths beat against my lips as little whimpers catch in her throat. My finger is slick, and I insert one more as the curl of her leg tightens around my waist.
When the heel of my palm grinds against her, she bucks against me. “Oh God…” she husks, her fingernails digging into my bare arms. “Max.”
“I’ve got you. I’m here.” I open my eyes to watch her unravel. “Hold on to me. Let it go.”
She squeezes me tighter. “I… That feels…”
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” I swallow, my boxers tight and smothering. “You like it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes…Max…” Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed pink. “It feels so good.”
I lean in to kiss her, mouth open and tongue hungry. She kisses me back with the same urgency, both of us moaning and grinding and feeling fucking everything . “I have condoms in my nightstand,” I murmur, pressing our foreheads back together.
She manages to shake her head. “This…this is good.”
My hand picks up speed, two fingers filling her deep, curling into her, angling higher. I thrust hard.
That’s when she freezes on a small yelp.
I pull my face away from hers, my eyes flaring. “Did I hurt you?”
Her jaw clenches but she shakes her head. “I’m okay… Keep going.”
“Ella.” My fingers begin to retreat, but she snatches my wrist to keep me there. To keep me inside of her.
“Please don’t stop.”
Indecision grips me…until she grips me.
Ella slides her hand beneath the covers and inches her fingers inside the waistband of my boxers.
“ Fuck ,” I curse, my head rearing back through the wave of pleasure snaking up my spine.
She strokes me. Up and down, her fingers firm.
I keep fingering her, keep grinding my hand against her.
Furious, desperate, both of us on the edge.
I yank my boxers down my hips, sliding them midthigh until I’m freed from the constraints, giving her better access. I’m shameless as I ride her hand and she rides mine. Heat unfurls. Tingles bloom and climb. The mattress creaks as the headboard lightly taps the wall. Ella grinds against me, the slippery sound of my fingers pumping in and out of her echoing through the still room.
My tongue is in her mouth again, messy, clumsy, spurred by rampant need.
She tenses when my hand finds the perfect rhythm, her mewls and whimpers pouring into my open mouth. Her eyes slam shut. Her hand jerks around me as she comes undone.
I force my eyes open to watch as her face twists with pleasure and she lets out a silent, raspy cry, vibrating in my arms.
She strokes me faster, even through it.
And that’s all it takes.
My body tightens, ignites, and releases.
A hoarse moan falls out of me as I spill onto her pale stomach before we both collapse with a simultaneous burst of breath.
Ella’s eyes flutter open across from me on the pillow, her hand slick and sticky as she loosens her hold. Sweat glimmers on her brow while she stares dazedly at me. I pull my fingers out of her and she winces, a slight hiss slipping through her teeth.
My breath stops. “I hurt you.”
“You didn’t. I’m fine.”
Blinking at her, I yank my hand from her underwear, twist around, and turn on my bedside lamp. When I glance down at my hand, both fingers are tinged with blood.
I whip my head toward her. “Ella…”
“I’m fine, Max. It just felt like a little pop of pressure. It’s not a big deal.” She leans over the side of the bed and searches for something to clean up with.
I readjust my boxers into place as I inch off the mattress, then pull a fresh T-shirt from my dresser and bring it to her. I turn away while she tends to the cleanup. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I was caught up in the moment. I should have been more careful.” Sparing her a quick glance over my shoulder, I watch as she pulls her tank top back over her head. “I wasn’t gentle.”
Ella flattens her mess of hair, dragging her fingers through the tangled strands. She looks at me, her cheeks bright pink and eyes still glazed. “I’m okay.”
“It shouldn’t have happened like that. It should’ve been when we…” Swallowing, I let my voice trail off, my insides pitching with guilt. I snapped her precious barrier with my fingers like a total idiot. Blowing out a strained breath, I run a hand through my hair and lower my gaze. “I’ll be right back.”
I pad out of the bedroom and make a quiet retreat to the bathroom across the hall. My reflection stares back at me, revealing flushed skin, disheveled hair, and nail marks on my upper arms. Nail marks from Ella. Because my fingers were inside her and I made her come.
Holy shit.
The gravity of what just happened slams into me as I flip on the faucet and exhale a shuddery breath. As I rinse off in the sink, I watch the water run red with her blood.
The image stabs at my chest.
When I return to the room with a warm, damp towel, Ella is burrowed underneath the blankets with only her head peeking out. I hand her the towel and climb in beside her, flipping off the light. We’re silent for a few beats, lying side by side on my bed, before I turn to her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she whispers back.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Are you okay…emotionally?”
“Max.”
“Yesterday you were loath to even kiss me. Twenty-four hours later, you’re in my bed with your hand wrapped around my—”
She slaps three fingertips to my mouth, shushing me. “ Max ,” she repeats.
I open my mouth and bite her fingers, making her squeal with laughter as she scoots closer to me on the bed. We’re face-to-face again. As my eyes adjust to the light, her porcelain features slowly come into focus and she lowers her fingers, dusting them against my chin before letting them fall away. Ella inhales, swallowing a frayed breath. “I don’t want to run anymore,” she confesses.
My gaze skims her face through the darkness. She looks lighter somehow. Softer. “I’m on board with that.”
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to say that,” she says. “I’m not trying to give you whiplash or make you doubt what’s happening between us, because that’s not fair. I just… I made a promise to myself that I would never do this. I’d never open my heart to anyone because that would leave me exposed and vulnerable to real pain. And so I’ve been running for years. No rest breaks. No water. Strained muscles, sore joints, bruised feet.”
“Sounds exhausting,” I murmur.
“It has been.” Pausing, she adds, “But all that running was worth it.”
“Yeah?” I press a kiss to her forehead, my hand sliding up and down her arm as I wait for her to continue.
Ella’s eyes close through a sigh as she cradles her palm to my cheek. “Eventually, I ran into you.”
My heart pounds, bursting with a sense of completion. Because I’ve been running, too. Running through a dense forest on loop, calling for help, begging for someone to find me before the sun sets and darkness swallows me whole. And then there was Ella. Adorned in an orange dress with red hair and a golden smile, glowing prettier than any molten sunset.
My way out.
I raise my hand and tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “A favorable collision,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss the peak of her nose.
A drowsy smile tips her lips as she curls into me with a yawn, her palms clasped around my neck. A few blissful minutes tick by before she murmurs, “Max?”
“Ella,” I respond, sleep pulling me under.
“I think I’m Eeyore.”
I blink myself from the edge of slumber, an amused frown twisting my brow. “What?”
“I’m Eeyore. From Winnie the Pooh,” she says. “I don’t want to be, but I am. His friends would try to cheer him up, try to pull him out of his dark hole, and it would work for a while…but then he’d always crawl back inside.” She sighs, her eyes fluttering closed. “Eeyore never had a happy ending.”
Melancholy trickles through me. I pull her closer, lowering her face to the space between my jaw and my chest, my chin resting atop her mound of hair as I graze my hand through the tresses. “We’ll just have to rewrite it then,” I tell her softly.
Ella makes a sighing sound, her body going lax against me. “You rarely win…but sometimes you do, right?” she mumbles, her voice fading, her breath shallowing as sleep steals her away.
“Yeah, Sunny. Sometimes you do.”
I fall asleep moments later with a smile, knowing that this moment is a beginning.
But as everyone knows…
A beginning is often an end.