21. Chapter 21
Ijolt awake, panic forcing my heart into my throat, the jeering voices of fellow inmates fading. Where the fuck am I? Then I settle as I see light knocking at the window. It’s early morning, a hint of sun breaking through the grey. I’m not in prison.
My eyes feel like sandpaper and my body’s stiff as a corpse. I’m not alone. X is next to me, sleeping on her side facing me, soft sweet breaths making her chest rise and fall.
Yesterday was a nightmare culminating in gut-wrenching fear that I haven’t felt since the first day the door of my jail cell slammed behind me.
Except this time, it’s a different kind of fear. Back then I was afraid of the future. Now, I’m afraid of the present. Of the panic I felt last night when I didn’t know where X was. I haven’t felt like that in years.
In prison, the fear gave way to gritty determination. It got me through unscathed. Earned me the don’t-fuck-with-that-guy reputation. Time plodded, one day after the other. A lifetime for someone as young as I was. But it did me some good. I learned how to control my emotions, how to handle tense situations, how to stay immovable and let time pass.
But the here and now, as I look at X, sleeping deeply, her beautiful unlined face full of trust, the emotion almost cripples me. I’m in denial. She’s not the one; she can’t be. I see the future, my world upended. I’d live in fear that something would happen to her. I’d lose control because she has none. My facade would crack.
She mutters something in her sleep and her little pink tongue darts out between her teeth and licks her lips. I was already hard, but now my dick is a post, looking for relief. This girl beside me. She’s no Casual Chrissy. She’s not someone I can use until it’s time to move on. She’s a lifer.
My dick doesn’t seem to care.
I convince myself it can’t hurt to touch. I glide my hand over her hip, feeling the generous curve, the perfection of it, then I slide it lower to her thigh and caress the silkiness of her skin. I think of us in twenty years. She’d still be perfect, still upending my world, giving meaning to my days, which would pass too fast. Minutes, hours, years. Each one freeing me from my past, helping me let go of the memories, the fear that still haunts me.
Panic strangles me. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, my hands shake. I can’t be this guy, the one who loves and honors. Who invites chaos into my life. Who betrays the trust of this woman.
As I start to remove my hand, I look at her face. Her eyes are open and she’s studying me like she can see into my soul. I wait for her to say something, anything, but she doesn’t break the spell. Instead, she erases the scant space between us and places a gentle kiss on my lips.
I freeze as she moves closer, slides her hand over the skin of my arm, giving me goosebumps. She’s hypnotic, her eyes, her touch. The warmth of her body.
Stop, I command myself. Get out of the fucking bed and get away from her.
It’s futile. She kisses me again and I lose it.
I wrap her in my arms and crush her against me, my lips seeking hers, soft, pillowy, welcoming. She’s fire, I’m ice, but she’s melting me. I forget my resolve, forget that I won’t survive with her in my life.
But she isn’t noble either, doesn’t care what she’s doing to me. She’s wants me in a way no other woman ever has. I know. It’s not because I’m a badass biker, or a mystery that needs solving. It’s not about winning the prize that no other woman ever has. She simply wants me, without reason or logic. She wants me.
I kiss her again, my tongue sliding between her lips, and she opens to me, letting me in, welcoming me. It’s not frantic or explosive. It’s sweet, the promise of a home, of forever. It’s everything I want and within my reach.
If I can only get out of my head.
Our tongues tangle as her hand slides over my chest, then my abs, stopping, taking a tour of my muscles. When she reaches my dick, she holds my eyes, almost as if seeking permission. I invite her in with a jerk of my hips.
She wraps her small fingers around me, sliding gently up and down, destroying me without realizing.
I’m afraid to tell her what I want. I don’t want to invite conversation into this moment. I don’t want reality to intrude.
She seems to understand as she tightens her grip and strokes me harder and faster. I want her too much and feel the pressure growing inside me. It’s not gonna happen that way.
Jerking her hand off me, I roll on top of her, my fingers tangling in her hair as my dick seeks her wetness. She opens her thighs, lets me slide into her as she wraps her legs around my hips, closes her eyes and moans.
I burrow as deep as I can, watching her face, waiting for her tell me to stop, knowing she won’t. Then it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re holding each other tightly as our bodies meet, as our breaths mingle. I feel everything, my soul loosens. I know I’m lying to myself, but I can’t let her go. Not now, maybe not ever.
She cries out softly and I feel her spasm around my dick. It tips me over the edge and my orgasm roars through me, painful, numbing, exquisite. Nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It’s a promise, a warning, a commitment.
I lay on top of her for a moment, kissing her lips, her neck, her face.
Then I slide off and to my back and she burrows against me. No words, no promises, no broken moment. I stare at the ceiling as I hear her breathing level out, then close my eyes and fall into a deep dreamless sleep.