Chapter 27 #2
“Cora, there’s no shame in needing help. That’s what those services are there for. You’ve suffered immense trauma over the past few months— not just the abduction and the overdose, but you were pregnant , sweetie. It’s all so much… so heavy.”
I stiffen. I try not to think about the pregnancy.
I bury it down, along with every other inconceivable blow I’ve been dealt since November.
I don’t think about how it could have been Dean’s.
I don’t think about how it could have been his .
I want to be a mother more than anything one day, but not like that.
No child deserves to be born out of the horrors of that basement.
“I told you, I’m fine. I just need to get some rest,” I insist, escaping my mother’s grasp and moving past her. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Cora…”
I shuffle through the loft and down the stairs, grabbing my coat and keys. “Goodnight,” I shout, disappearing out the front door.
When I pull out of the driveway and head towards the main intersection, I hesitate before I choose a turn lane. My heart starts to thump with nervous beats as I contemplate not going home. The sun has set and darkness is hovering, disguising what I know is wrong.
I don’t think too hard and swerve to the left, heading to the opposite end of town.
For the second night in a row, I’m walking up his cement sidewalk, unable to stay away. Only, this time he’s sitting on the front stoop smoking a cigarette. I halt my steps when our eyes meet and he blows a plume of smoke up towards the stars.
“You’re smoking again,” I note softly, stuffing my hands into my coat pockets.
His jaw sets as he takes a long drag, the embers flickering to life. The last time I saw him smoke was in his Camaro that night, right before Earl shattered my window.
And my soul.
“I need something to take the edge off.”
I duck my head, pressing my lips together. “Am I the edge?”
Dean stares right at me as puffs of smoke trail from his nostrils, then he kicks at a loose stone. “Yeah, Cora. You’re the edge.” He watches carefully as I take a few slow steps towards him. “Why are you here?”
I was really hoping he wouldn’t ask me that question. I offer a shrug in response.
He blinks through another drag. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Can we go inside?”
“No. I’m smoking.”
I quell my defenses and continue to approach him on the stoop.
I perch myself between his legs, pushing his knees apart and reaching for his cigarette.
I pluck the rolled paper from his loose grip, replacing it with my lips.
Dean melts into me for one brief, exquisite moment, before pulling back and standing to his feet.
“I can’t… it’s getting late. You should go home.”
He turns to head inside, not expecting me to follow, but I do. I stomp out the cigarette and trail him through the entryway, closing the door behind us. “I missed you.”
This seems to trigger something in him and he whirls around, storming over to me frozen in the doorway. “Bullshit. You’re here to scratch an itch.”
I jerk back, thrown by that assumption. “You know that’s not true.”
“We both know that is true, otherwise you wouldn’t have skipped out on me this morning.
You wouldn’t have ignored my texts all day.
You wouldn’t have declined my invitation to talk.
” Dean tosses his arms in the air with aggravation.
“I won’t be your dirty, little secret, Cora.
I won’t be your fuck toy or your goddamn escape. ”
Hurt sparks inside me, prickling my skin, but I shove it back down.
I unbutton my peacoat and let it fall off my arms as I step out of my boots.
I approach him standing there in the middle of his living room, hands set loosely on his hips, chest expanding and deflating with each arduous breath.
When I’m only a foot away, I tug my blouse up and over my head.
His jaw ticks as he watches, his eyes casing me, darkening and curious.
I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting it slip to the floor, my eyes still hooked on his.
His nostrils flare and his fingers dig into his hip bones, but he doesn’t drop his gaze. “Stop.”
“You don’t want me?”
I’m playing with fire, but the flames are the only thing keeping me warm.
Dean sucks in a deep breath. “I want all of you, Corabelle.”
I close the gap between us, grasping his hands in mine and placing them over my breasts. I release a tiny moan when his thumbs graze my nipples. “I’m right here.”
“No.” The word comes out forced, almost painful. His right hand slides up my chest until it’s directly over my heart. “I want all of you.”
I want that, too.
I want dinner dates and movie nights and homemade breakfasts after long, magical nights of lovemaking. I want to hold hands in public. I want to go on road trips, see the ocean, and laugh until our bellies ache.
But he’s Dean .
And I’m Cora.
And we are not meant for any of those things.
I drag his hand back down until he’s cupping my breast. I arch against him, my head tipping back as our groins touch together and he starts to palm my breasts, his desire taking over. “Please.”
This puts him over the edge and he growls out, “Fucking hell.”
His arms link underneath my thighs and he hoists me up, my legs curling around his waist. He carries me to his bedroom, our mouths locking together, our bodies ready to go, but our hearts desperate for so much more.
This is enough. This is okay.
I tell myself this as Dean fucks me doggie-style on his bed, pulling my hair, nicking my skin with his teeth, and whispering dirty words into my ear.
If I can’t have all of him, I’ll settle for some of him.