21. Chapter 21
Saint
We dance until late into the night. We don't talk much. Ames looks like she wants to lose herself to the music, moving close to me no matter the song, and I am only happy to oblige.
Just like earlier in the evening, she keeps on touching me.
At one point, her fingertips run over my chain and I don't know what to make of it, but I come close to combustion.
I fall deeper and deeper into my feelings, until they wrap me in silk and steel and my nerve endings become livewire.
Even the gentlest of touches set my body aflame.
Next time we need a break, we decide to call it a night and come home.
Again, she kisses me on the cheek goodnight. "Thank you for everything, Saint."
I watch her go into her room, my feet nailed in place.
The rope I tie at my ankles is made of every ounce of will I still have left.
My whole body is begging me to follow her, but I know it's a selfish wish.
Dancing together and a little convenient payback on her ex are no evidence I am the Mister Right she's looking for .
It's dark in my room, when I finally make myself lay down in bed. I'm too wired from the night to fall asleep. I stare at the dark ceiling, replaying the night. How she reacted when I brought her to my lap. How she kissed me. How she touched me.
The fact she didn't complain or move away when she realized how hard I was.
It's difficult to ignore.
But does that mean she would have wanted me to make a move?
If this were anyone else, I would have taken it as a sign that she wants me, too.
I'm so turned on my brain is tormenting me with the possibility. A movie plays in my mind with all the things I want to do with her. All the things I told myself a long time ago I couldn't risk wanting with Ames, when she's looking for everything I'm not good for.
She wants a happily ever after and I don't fit with that archetype.
But, fuck, I'm one hell of a Mister Right Now.
Before I know it, I stand outside her room again. I'm hard as a rock, and dithering on the edge of a decision I can't come back from. Knocking on her door could change everything.
I place my hands on the doorframe, head hanging low, despairing but holding back, because this isn't as simple as jumping in and seeing where we land.
That's when I hear the moan. The buzzing of what I can only assume is a vibrator.
Lust is a waterfall down my back, pooling at my core, filling up my belly. My lungs.
Another moan reaches me. It's low. I shut my eyes and beg my ears to become superhuman.
The sounds are subtle, and there's no way I'd hear it if I weren't standing right outside her door.
Before I know it, the hum disappears altogether, and a single, throaty gasp takes its place.
Somehow, I know she pushed the vibe inside her.
My breathing hiccups. My heart stutters .
I place one hand on the door. The other lands on my cock— my boxers can barely contain it. Singlehandedly, I push the fabric low and free my erection, wrapping it hard in my hand. I don't move. The way I'm feeling, it wouldn't take more than a pump or two before I make a mess.
Fingers splay over the door and I push, like my subconscious is seriously considering tearing down the barrier and joining Ames.
She moans again. My hand forms a fist against painted wood and, because I'm weak, I pump on my cock once with the other one.
If I'm going to do this, now is the time.
If I do this, I have to make her understand it will not last. That I'm not built for it.
Like I've done every time, with everyone else.
Ames may be the only one I would have risked everything for, but she deserves better than an untested guy who doesn't fit what she's looking for.
Especially when it could result in pain.
Worse, when it would be layered hurt on top of her recent breakup, except I would be the one to cause it this time.
I pull the hand back from the door. Could she ever…
She moans again. I give myself another pump. A drop leaks. I shiver.
If she says no and I've taken this risk I could…
Another moan. I don't know if it's hers or mine.
"Shit," I whisper.
I take a step back. Another. I don't know what I'm doing, or why, but I go back to my room.
I make it all the way to my bathroom, slap the light on, and pump fast on my cock.
I can still hear her moans resounding in my head.
Sounds make it out of my throat and, fuck, it doesn't take a whole minute.
My balls seize and I come so hard I forget where I am.
All I know is my hands catch some of it, and my lungs can't keep up, and it's a miracle I haven't collapsed to the floor.
I've been holding back this climax for too long.
Some time later, my eyes open of their own accord. The countertop is white stone and far too bright for my poor brain. I blink a few times, barely aware that my cock is still half hard in my hand .
"Fuck."
I flip the faucet on and put my hand under water, only to find cum dripping from three wet lines on the mirror.
"Damn."
Still catching up with my breathing, I grab a towel and clean the mess I made. My image mocks me on the reflection, with its torn, anguished face and muscular body that won't get me closer to Ames.
It doesn't serve me to be at the top of my game, when that only makes me a jock, and not the kind of artistic man Ames is known to be drawn to.
At some level I understand that. I have to have known it, because I stepped away from that door for a reason.
While I despaired over joining her in bed, asking if she'll have me for a little while, my subconscious had my back.
Ames has always been clear in what she wants.
If I want to fool myself that I could be that for her in the short term, I'd be the one to blame.
The resulting heartbreak would be for me to live with.
A couple more passes of the towel on the mirror and it's clean, but my reflection's face looks just as forlorn. All these muscles that make fans and dates fawn over me, and all the skill that is setting me up to a win this season— they don't cut it in Ames' eyes.
Even if she was aroused today like I was, and even if that's what had her moaning in her room tonight, it doesn't mean she'd choose me over what she really wants.
Why would she? Ames doesn't deserve anything but the best. She should never conform and settle for a guy who can't give her the future she has a claim to. And I can't be the guy that goes into it knowing that it could all result in pain, and I'd be the cause of it.
Hell, I'm not an option. I haven't proven myself yet. We have to make it to the final game first, and make ourselves the best. As for relationships, my adult life is all the evidence she needs .
In love, my existence is no more than just a habit, and a collection of desirable traits with an expiration date.