Chapter 23 #2
Predictably, she shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.” Her voice is soft. It makes my throat tighten. Somebody’s going to fucking pay for making her feel like this.
“I know you’re not hungry,” I reply, my voice equally measured, because I don’t want to scare her right now. I want to take care of her. “But you need to eat. So I’m asking what sounds palatable to you. You name it, they’ll cook it. And then I’ll hover over you until you eat it.”
Her lips curl so slightly you could miss it if you blinked. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Fuck it. I walk over to her, hunker down in front of her, and take her hands, fixing her eyes with mine. Her lips part at the sudden touch, a breath escaping from them. I look at our joined hands, wondering if she hates this.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She nods and squeezes her fingers around me. Good. Because I don’t want to let go of her.
“Okay, listen to me.” I lift a brow, letting her know I’m not taking any more protests. “You’re here because I want you here. Because we’re friends and friends don’t let each other deal with whatever you’re dealing with alone.”
“Is that what we are?” she asks me. “Friends?”
My thighs are starting to ache, squatting with her hands in mine. I release her momentarily, taking a seat on the sofa next to her. Before either of us can let out a breath, she’s scrambling into my lap.
I’m not sure if I pulled her on top of me or she made the first move. Either way, her thighs press against mine and it takes every ounce of strength I have to stop myself from getting hard. At the feel of her, the smell of her, the way she looks at me like I’m the white knight here to save her.
She presses her face against my shoulder and lets out a long breath. I feel the warmth of it on my neck and I have to grit my teeth. “Food,” I manage to say. “What do you want.”
“Toast.”
I blink. “Toast?”
“And tea. And some boiled eggs.”
This time I laugh softly. “That sounds very British.”
“My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid. She’d soft boil some eggs and cut some toast into little strips. She called them soldiers. I’d dip them in the egg, and I swear they tasted better than anything I’ve had since.”
I brush her hair from her face, feeling how soft her skin is. “You’ve never talked about your mom.”
“It’s hard to talk when your hand is mostly covering my mouth,” she says, a ghost of a smile on her face.
I roll my eyes at her. “So tell me now.”
She shifts on my lap so she can look at me, her body brushing mine. “She died when I was twenty-one.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say gently. “It must have been hard to lose her so young.”
“It was. But I know you went through something similar with your dad.” She cups my jaw, and for some reason it hits me right in the chest. Apparently I like being taken care of, too.
That’s new.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask her. She shakes her head. “I’m guessing loss hits a bit different if you’re an only child.” Because the six of us had each other when our parents were out of our lives.
“I guess I had to grow up fast. All at once. I needed to make the kind of decisions I was never prepared for.” She lets out a long breath, like she’s all out of words.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s history,” she murmurs. Then she leans forward to put her lips on mine, like she needs the connection.
I move my mouth softly against hers, running my hands down her back. Trying to comfort her. Trying not to get hard.
And failing.
She feels it too. I know, because she rolls her hips against me, her movements completely deliberate. Her lips smiling against mine.
“You need to eat,” I remind her.
She lets out a long breath. “I just… want to not think for a while.” Her words sound like a plea.
And I want to do that for her. I want to help her get out of her brain, to just exist.
“You want me to help you?” I ask. And we both know what I’m asking.
Do you want me to fuck you until you forget your own name?
She nods again, her eyes so wide I could get lost in them. “Please.”
Christ, I could love this woman so easily if I let myself. I could happily come home to her every day. I could live to make her smile.
And then I would ruin her life.
I blink that thought away.
I run my finger over her jaw, down her cheekbones, then trace her lips. She parts them, exhaling softly, her breath warm against my skin.
“Go in my room. Take your clothes off. And wait for me.”
Her eyes soften, like I’ve said exactly what she needs to hear.
She’s so damn perfect against my body I miss her as soon as she scrambles off me.
And I realize that this is what she needs.
For me to take away her thoughts, to make the decisions.
To let her exist and forget about whatever it was that made her cry.
And I can do that. For her.
And for me, too.