Chapter 28
chapter twenty-eight
MARISOL
A scream pulls me from sleep.
I jolt upright as I wonder if I imagined the sound, but when I hear Leo yell out through the wall, I fly out of bed. Terror tears through me as I burst into the hall. I’ve witnessed his nightmares before, but nothing like this.
I don’t hesitate to push open the door to his room, and when I do, I see the comforter lying on the ground at the end of the bed, the sheets ripped off his body.
One of Leo’s hands grips the pillow beside him, and his heel digs into the mattress as he tosses his head back and forth over the pillow beneath him.
“Not again,” he cries, and his hand flies to his abdomen, holding it like he’s hurt as he mumbles in distress.
I catch the words “make it” and “get there” between his panting as I climb onto the bed.
His skin glistens with sweat, and he lets out a pained groan as I take his hand over his abdomen in mine, and he squeezes it like he did last time.
But this time, I notice a silver scar on his side that I never noticed before.
It’s round, and the skin is uneven, but I don’t have time to wonder what made it as Leo yells out.
“Away from her! Get away from her!” His yell turns into a defeated cry, and a tear slips down my cheek.
“It’s okay,” I say, once again hoping my voice finds him, but he feels further away this time, hidden deeper in his pain. He pants, a shiver rolling through him as he thrashes against the mattress, the intensity only seeming to increase. “Leo,” I say, and his face contorts in pain.
“No,” he breathes out, his voice quiet, but his hurt is so loud. He mumbles for a moment, none of it coherent until he whispers, “Forgive me.” And I crack.
“Leo, hey.” I move closer to him, but his limbs move like weapons.
His other hand falls above the scar, and he scratches at it, digs at it, like there’s something beneath his skin that he has to get out.
I try to pull his hand away, to stop him from hurting himself, but he’s stronger than I am, and I struggle against his force.
I put my weight into pushing his hands away from his body, pressing them into the mattress, and find myself straddling his torso. “Wake up,” I say. “Please.”
Wherever he is in his mind, he’s hurting, and maybe it’s bad to wake people when they are like this, I don’t know.
But I don’t know what else to do to stop his pain.
His fight slows down, and his mumbling gets quieter.
When I let up on his arms, his eyes fly open, but his hand reaches up and closes around my neck.
In a second, he’s flipped us, and his lower body pins mine to the mattress as his hand tightens around my neck.
“It’s me, Leo,” I choke out as I look up into his hardened gaze. His nostrils are flared, and his eyes burn with rage and pain as he looks down at me as if he’s not sure if he is awake or not, as if he can’t decipher what is real.
“It’s me. I’m here.” I reach up and let my fingers fall upon his cheeks, letting him feel my touch to know that this is real. He closes his eyes, pain drawing his brows together, and when he opens them again, they’re clear.
He pulls his hand from my neck. “Fuck, Marisol.” His bottom lip shakes as his fingers dance over my neck. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
I wrap my hands around his head, holding him close. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
He shakes his head in my grip. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my own head. “It was my own fault. I’m okay. I’m here.” I repeat it because I need him to know that I’m here for him, not just the good parts and the goofy parts, not just for the parts where he’s protecting me.
I’m here with him in the bad parts, too. Maybe we can protect each other.
He pants as he looks down at me, and my breath isn’t any slower.
I send my fingers into his hair, my nails scratching against his scalp.
He closes his eyes, and a groan slips from his parted lips.
I’m here. I tilt my head so that my nose brushes against his.
I’m here. He doesn’t move. I wrap my legs, which are caught under his weight, around his waist. I’m here.
His eyes flutter open, and his gaze has darkened, but not like it was before. Where that was ice cold and distant, this is burning hot.
It all comes crashing down as our lips connect. A moan slides out of me as I open my mouth to him, letting his tongue collide with mine in a desperate need to be as intertwined as possible.
“Fuck,” Leo growls as he slides a hand behind my back and flips us over, leaving me straddling him once again.
He leans back against his headboard and tugs me toward him, his hand sliding up my back, under my pajama top.
Heat explodes through every inch of my body.
What feels like years of ‘almost’ moments, of lingering glances and exhilarating touches, has boiled down to this one moment.
I can barely control myself as I roll my hips against his, feeling his hardness beneath me.
Our breaths are frenzied, every inhale feeling like I’m swallowing his exhale, and I feel high on it.
His hands pull on my hips as I grind back and forth, tension exploding between us as we move together, devouring each other like we are the very thing giving each other oxygen to breathe.
Each kiss is a lifeline. Heat builds in my core, and I feel my movements getting faster and faster.
Leo lets out a rough groan before he pulls his hands away from me. I think I whimper.
“Who started this?” he breathes, his eyes closed.
“What?” I’m still panting.
“Who kissed who first?” he asks, and I’m struggling to keep up.
“Who started this? I need it to be you, baby. It has to have been you.” He opens his eyes, and he looks tortured once again, but it’s a different kind.
He wants this to be my idea because if this ruins our act, he doesn’t want me to blame him.
I couldn’t care less about our act. I can blame myself for it later.
I grab his hand and guide it toward the waistband of my pajama pants. “I don’t know who kissed who first,” I say against his mouth, punctuating it with a kiss. “But I want this, right now.” I’m not sure that I’ve ever wanted anything more.
My eyelids grow heavy as his fingers slide beneath the fabric, grazing my lower belly. But his eyes are wide open, trained on my face as he dips lower.
“Are you sure?” he breathes, his lips wet from our earlier kiss.
A breath rushes out of me. “Yes.”
He leans up to kiss me at the same time that his fingers glide over my core, and my mouth falls open, a shaky breath coming straight from my lungs. Leo kisses my bottom lip as I pant, his fingers finding a perfect rhythm with my body. “Fuck, Leo.”
“God, I thought I’d only ever hear you say my name like that in my dreams.” His mouth moves to my neck, and I let my head hang back, exposing myself to him as I grind shamelessly against the heel of his palm.
He kisses the very spot where his fingers were closed around my neck seconds ago, and the contrast has heat curling in my belly. It’s a feeling I know, but one that always seems to disappear before it can explode.
I let myself imagine him dreaming of me. I let myself imagine him waking up in a sweat, his hand slipping beneath the sheets as he thinks of me. That heat continues to build, and I chase it as Leo moves his fingers faster and faster.
I attach myself to that feeling, letting my body take over, giving myself over to his touch.
I let myself go as those thoughts of him overwhelm me.
I sink my hands into his hair, pulling his head back so I can moan into his mouth as that heat unfurls.
Surprise courses through me, and Leo doesn’t stop his gentle movements until he’s wrung every last drop of satisfaction from me.
Our lips dance in a languid kiss as his wet fingers graze just below my belly button as they slide out of my pants. I let my forehead fall against his as we both come down from the moment. “Did we just fuck everything up?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I say, “but I can’t exactly find it in myself to regret it right now.”
He laughs, and a returning smile spreads across my face. “Consequences in the morning?”
“Consequences in the morning,” I repeat.
Leo pulls me flat to his chest, and I rest my head beneath his chin as he tucks me into his side.
His hand finds my head, and he slowly runs his fingers through my hair at the same pace that he takes every breath, and it soothes me, his movements lulling me into a sleepy state.
Right before I fall asleep, I feel a kiss pressed to my forehead, and a quiet, “I’m sorry,” whispered into my ear.