Chapter Nineteen - Mirabelle
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mirabelle
“I’M SORRY. I think I need you to repeat that,” I say, staring at Henry in disbelief.
Did he actually offer what I think he offered?
“Can I come in?” he asks, and I rub my tired eyes, but I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight after this. I open the door wider, letting him into my room. I shouldn’t have slept on the plane, but avoiding Henry was a lot of work the past week. I was exhausted, and now I’m paying the price for falling asleep on his shoulder.
“Am I still sleeping?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as Henry drags a hand through his damp hair. Thankfully, his water heater is large enough that both of us were able to jump in the shower immediately after getting back to his house, despite it being two in the morning. I don’t mind flying, but it always makes me feel so gross.
“I did a lot of thinking after our conversation on the plane while you were sleeping, and I keep coming back to one thing. I want to help you feel more comfortable and confident with sex. You’re doing me this huge favor by helping me, an—” I cut Henry off by laughing. Yeah. That’s what I thought he said. This is amazing. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, but I’m not laughing because I think it’s funny. I’m laughing because I feel like I’m dying inside.
“You know, I can understand where you’re coming from, but I think this might be more embarrassing than anything with Reid. I don’t need you to fuck me out of pity because you think your magical dick can fix whatever is wrong with me,” I exclaim, trying not to crumble into a puddle on the bed.
I should have tried harder to continue avoiding Henry. This is awful. Don’t cry. Crying isn’t going to make this situation any better.
Henry shakes his head, putting his hands up in self-defense. “Mira, that’s not at all what I’m doing.”
“Then what do you call it?”
I can hear my heart beating in my ears and Henry steps closer to me. I swallow the lump in my throat, matching it to take a step back. The air feels stifling, and I pull the collar of my shirt uncomfortably. I want to look away— I should look away —but I can’t.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Not once did that thought cross my mind, and I promise I’m not offering out of pity,” Henry says, his eyes cataloging every move I make as he continues to get closer. I don’t have anywhere I can hide physically, but emotionally? I feel like the only piece of me he doesn’t see is the one that’s madly in love with him. “When you told Stacey you would help me with my PR by pretending to be my fake girlfriend, was it out of pity?”
I agreed because I wanted Henry to see how amazing fake dating me would be, so he wouldn’t be able to resist falling for me. It wasn’t out of pity.
“No,” I say.
Henry nods, satisfied with my answer. “I was embarrassed. I almost fucked everything up before I even had the opportunity to step on the field as a starter. That’s embarrassing. I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can say that I don’t think you should be embarrassed. I’m offering to help you because everyone deserves to be comfortable during intimacy. Everyone deserves to know what it’s like to have a partner that gives a damn about making them feel good. You said you were afraid to mess things up with the right guy, and I loathe the idea of you thinking you’re not good enough. I don’t want you to miss out on the happiness you deserve with the right man when he comes along, so use me to practice. Use me however you want, but please let me help you.”
My lower back hits the dresser behind me, but Henry doesn’t stop advancing closer to me. I’m not even sure I’m breathing when he slows right in front of me. My brain short-circuits when Henry brushes a damp strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing down the length of my cheek and the curve of my jaw. He tilts my head upward by applying gentle pressure under my chin, his eyes reading me like I’m a goddamn book written in a language only he understands.
Oh my god.
I’m not breathing, but I think he’ll catch me if I faint.
“If I’m pitying anyone, it’s your stupid fucking ex-boyfriend for not knowing what he had in front of him,” he says.
I swallow the lump in my throat, wetting my lips. “And what’s that?”
His hazel eyes soften, and I hate seeing the bags underneath them.
“You. He had you.” Henry takes a shuddering breath, looking at me in a way that makes my heart do somersaults in my chest. “You’re . . . incandescent . You’re a beacon of light in a world that has seen too many tragedies. You’re the sun in the middle of a fucking hurricane. You’re everything good that a person could possibly be, all wrapped into one, and that’s exactly what you deserve. You deserve everything , Mirabelle.”
My heart can’t take this. How can he say all of that and not have feelings for me?
Except, he didn’t offer to make this real. Henry is offering to let me use him to practice if it means I’ll be happy later down the line with another man. I can practically feel my heart grow as I fall more in love with him. Too bad I don’t plan on there being another man, especially after that little speech.
“How would it work?” I ask, and his gaze drops to my mouth. God, even the way he looks at me turns me on.
“However you want. I’ll be honest with you every step of the way. I know what I like, and I can’t say it’s the same for everyone, but I have an extremely hard time believing you could do anything wrong. Use me any way you want to give yourself the freedom and safety to learn what you like, without some undeserving asshole making you feel like you’re doing it wrong.”
Oh fuck. My entire body is screaming that I should just agree because nothing sounds better than that, especially with Henry. Logically, however, my brain is throwing up warning signs about how quickly this can go wrong.
But, if I’m going to be ruined by anyone, I’d rather it be Henry.
I nod slowly, the craving I have for Henry overpowering whatever logic is trying to keep me from giving in. The logic entirely disappears when Henry smiles, and he leans down, kissing me gently. Angling my head to kiss him back, it’s like the restraint in him snaps, and Henry cups my face in his hands.
This isn’t for show.
I’m unsure if knowing that makes this kiss better than all our other ones, but I don’t hold back. I fist the front of Henry’s thin T-shirt, pulling him closer to me because now that I know what this feels like, a week was too long to be avoiding him.
I can feel how soaked I am already, and if Henry’s words can cause my body to react in a manner it never has with another person before, I’m a goner.
Henry coaxes my mouth open, and I moan softly at the feeling of his tongue brushing against mine. Somehow, without breaking our mouths apart, Henry bends to lift me up, setting me down on top of the dresser. He steps between my legs, his hand slipping underneath the edge of my shirt to skim my lower back. Yes, yes, yes. I’m nearly vibrating under his touch, and I’m not sure why I thought this would be a bad idea in the first place.
I can feel how aroused Henry is, and I hook a leg around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling the smallest bit of satisfaction when the thick ridge of his erection rubs deliciously against my clit through the clothes separating us. Henry groans as I grind my hips against his, tipping my head back to gasp his name. “Henry.”
The rough calluses on his palm only make the moment more real as his hand slides up my back, his touch confident and sure as I hold him close. I want more— I need more. I reach between us, kneading my breast, causing more pleasure to spark through my body as Henry kisses my neck.
Fuck. This is unreal, except it is real. This is happening.
“That’s it, mon c?ur. Make yourself feel good,” he murmurs against the sensitive skin of my throat. I love that he could call me anything in the world, and he chooses to call me my heart .
“Henry, more. Please .” The words fall out of my mouth without a second thought, followed by another breathy moan as Henry scrapes his teeth teasingly over a spot that causes my hips to jerk reactively.
“What do you need?” he asks, his voice husky as he kisses the same spot soothingly. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”
I need you. I’ve always needed you.
“Do that again . . . with your m-mouth. Touch me, please,” I struggle to say, my head spinning in delirium.
He chuckles, his hand still underneath my shirt, trailing down my side. “Here?” he asks, gripping my side, and I bite my lip, shaking my head.
My body arches when Henry scrapes his teeth again, biting gently this time before kissing the sting away. Fuck, I really like that.
“Hand h-higher,” I stutter, trying to focus on the other part I asked for, and Henry brings his hand to the front, sliding it underneath my hand still playing with myself. Through the fabric of the shirt, I can feel the warmth of his skin as he pinches my nipple. “Oh my god, yes,” I manage to say before I’m silenced as Henry threads his other hand through my hair to kiss me with so much desperation, my body sings.
I used to think gymnastics was the only thing that could make my body feel so alive, but Henry has proven me wrong.
“Need to kiss you, sorry,” he mumbles in between kisses, and I couldn’t care less what he does, as long as he doesn’t stop.
I hold onto Henry’s hand touching me for dear life through my shirt as he rolls my nipple between his fingers, and I frantically chase the high of my impending orgasm, the dresser rocking to hit the wall with the force of our bodies colliding. It’s almost too much for me to handle, but my tipping point comes when Henry wraps my hair in his fist, yanking it back, and the spark of pain mixed with the intoxicating feeling of Henry kissing me causes my body to explode into a million tiny stars as his mouth hungrily swallows my cry.
Henry shudders against me, taking everything I have to give. I sag in relief, exhaustion finally catching up to me as Henry drops his head to the crook of my neck. My chest heaves, trying to catch up on the oxygen my brain was deprived of.
Did . . . what the hell just happened?
Henry exhales shakily, pressing a sweet kiss to my collarbone. “Do you still think I’m offering out of pity?”
“I’m not sure I care,” I admit, causing both of us to laugh. He can pity me any day if it means that happens again. “That was . . .” I trail off, unsure how to put into words how good that was.
“Yeah. It was.” He lifts his head, an easy smile forming on his swollen lips, and I love knowing they’re swollen from kissing me. Henry looks like something out of a wet dream with his flushed cheeks and messy hair. “Did you like anything specific?” he asks, and I feel my cheeks flush.
“I liked all of it, but I think I liked when you pulled my hair?” I say, forcing myself to maintain eye contact when the idea of telling Henry exactly what I enjoyed about that entire life-altering experience makes me want to hide in my shirt.
“You think, or you know?” he asks, clearly picking up on my hesitancy, and I exhale. If I can come with all my clothes still on after dry humping Henry, I can definitely tell him what I liked about it. Holy shit, that’s a sentence I never thought would be true.
“I know I did—a lot, actually,” I correct myself, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. I have never seen this side of Henry, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to ever forget it exists. “I liked when you used your teeth on my neck.”
“Noted. Was there anything you didn’t like?” he asks, brushing my hair out of my face.
“Nope. I liked all of it, honestly.” I smile at him, and suddenly, I feel a little silly for getting upset with him at first for offering. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I hate that Reid put this doubt in my head, and I think I took some of my frustration out on you. I appreciate that you offered to help in the first place. I don’t want you to think I only agreed to be your fake girlfriend because I thought I’d get something in return.”
“Don’t get in your head about it, Mira. I meant everything I said.” Henry leans forward, pressing another soft kiss to my forehead.
“Would it be weird if I thanked you?” The last time I thanked him for something like this, I wound up spilling my guts about Reid. I suppose that wasn’t entirely a bad thing because it led to tonight, but it feels wrong not to thank him?
“Thank you, Mirabelle. I’m not sure why you feel like you’re inexperienced, I’m not sure I’ve ever come in my pants before,” Henry admits, finally untangling our bodies. My mouth parts in shock, and I’m a little sad I missed getting to see Henry come undone. I look down at his pants as if needing to see proof he isn’t telling me that to make me feel better, but there’s definitely a stain on the front of his grey sweats. They’re still tented, and my mouth waters at the idea of trying to take him in my mouth.
“Do you want help?” I ask, and Henry shakes his head.
“I’ll take care of it in the shower like I have been, but maybe next time. There’s no rush.”
Like I have been.
I slide off the dresser, and I should be pissed I have to jump into the shower again, but I’m not mad in the slightest. Does that mean Henry has been thinking about me while jerking off? What does that mean?
“Henry, wait?”
He stops immediately, looking back at me.
I can’t ask him about that. “What happens next?” I blurt out instead, and he tilts his head, a playful smirk quirking the corner of his mouth up.
“Make a list of things you want to try, and things you think you need to get better at. We’ll go from there,” he says.
Despite how exhausted I am, I know I won’t be sleeping at all.