Chapter 16 #2
Her whimpers remain filled with slight pain, each one fueling me, driving me closer to the edge. I know she’ll ask me to stop if it hurts too much, so I allow myself to lose everything I am in her. “Jude,” she pants, her nails scoring my back, branding me. Ugh, my girl. I fucking love her.
The coil in my gut pulls tight, a searing heat spreading from my core. I bury my face in her neck, my thrusts becoming harder. “Ugh, fuck, baby…”
Her answer is to clutch me tighter, her legs locking around me, holding me deep as my release tears through me. I groan as I empty myself into her, my entire body shuddering with the force of it.
I collapse on top of her, the weight of me probably crushing her, but she doesn’t complain. Her hands come up, stroking my damp hair and my back. We lie there for a long moment, just breathing.
Slowly, I lift my head. Her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling.
I brush a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
I can feel her body shaking beneath mine, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re warm and clear.
She doesn’t say a word. She just cups my cheek and pulls me down into a deep kiss, one that tastes of us, and of a future that is full of so much promise.
“Are you okay, baby?” I ask, pulling away to look at her pretty face.
She nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Still kind of hurts though.”
I ease myself out carefully, her nails biting into my arms. “Do you need anything?”
“I need you to not fall asleep on top of me,” she replies playfully.
“Too late,” I snort laying my head on her shoulder, eyes half closed.
“You’re too comfortable.” I force myself to roll away from her, my muscles screaming in protest. The cool air of the room hits my sweat-slicked back, sending a sudden shiver racing down my spine.
I prop myself on an elbow, my gaze instantly, instinctively, drawn downward to see a stark, crimson smear against the soft skin of her inner thigh.
The sight is a physical blow to my gut. I did that.
I knew it was inevitable, but seeing the evidence, the visceral proof of the pain I’d caused her. ..it makes me feel terrible.
“Shit,” I rasp. “God, Em. I’m so sorry.”
A small, tender smile touches her kiss-swollen lips. She shifts, wincing only slightly, and lifts a hand. Her fingers, so much softer and smaller than mine, find my cheek. “Look at me.”
I force my eyes from the damning evidence on her thigh to her face. Her expression holds no accusation, no regret. Only a profound, startling peace.
“I wanted this,” she whispers, her thumb stroking my cheekbone. “I wanted you. All of you.” She takes a shaky breath, her gaze holding mine. “I’m so grateful it was you. I love you, Jude.”
Her sincere words make my heart squeeze. She’s mine. She gave herself to me, and she’s grateful for it.
Before I can form a coherent thought, she leans forward and presses her lips to mine.
A low groan vibrates in my chest. My arm snakes around her back, so careful not to hurt her, and I pull her gently against me.
I kiss her, pouring every ounce of my relief, my awe, my devastating need for her into it.
Our kiss deepens, lazily now, without the frantic urgency of before.
My hand slides from her back, over the delicious curve of her hip, and down.
I avoid the tender junction between her legs, my palm skating along the outside of her thigh.
I feel her shudder against me, a full-body tremor that has nothing to do with pain.
“I love you, too,” I declare softly against her lips. My fingers trail through her slit, not seeking entry, just tracing. I feel her muscles clench instinctively at the proximity, and she lets out another soft, sharp gasp.
“Jude…”
“I know,” I murmur against her skin, kissing my way down her sternum. “I know. Just let me…” I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t have the words. I just need to worship this body I’ve claimed. I need to replace the memory of pain with nothing but pleasure.
So I rub her clit softly, careful not to hurt her. And when she comes for me again, I’m whispering praises and kissing her throat. She laughs quietly and kisses my collarbone, and that sleepy sound becomes the last thing I remember before everything fades into warmth.
~*~
When I blink back into the present, it’s like surfacing too fast. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the moon pouring in through the window. Micah’s asleep, snoring softly.
My heart’s still racing. My lips still tingle. I run a hand over my face and stare up at the ceiling. For a second, I swear I can smell that vanilla lotion again and the faintest trace of coconut shampoo. The way she looked at me after her first time…
I swallow hard. “God, Em…” I whisper into the quiet. “You have no idea how much I miss that version of us.” I turn onto my side, eyes burning, and try to breathe past the ache in my chest. It’s crazy to think I was ever that gentle with someone.
Adriana and Nolan show up first fucking thing.
Nolan’s got coffee in hand. Her perfume hits before I’m even really awake, sweet and heavy, crawling into my lungs like poison.
It pisses me off on reflex. Micah reaches over and mutes the TV.
The way he sinks back against the headboard tells me he’s already bracing for whatever this is.
“Morning, boys.” Nolan grins, tossing Micah a water bottle, then one at me. “Big weekend coming up.”
I glance up from the sketchbook in my lap. We’ve barely moved since waking up—just sprawled here, killing time. “Yeah. What’s the plan this time?”
Nolan leans against the wall, arms crossed like he owns the place. “Alexei wants to meet again. Few new investors. Easy money. Fun night.”
I feel Adriana’s gaze before I look at her. She drops two little white baggies onto our beds.
My unfortunate life force.
I force a smirk. “We’ll see how I’m feeling.”
Her hand drags slowly along my shoulder, fingers pressing just enough to remind me she can. I fight the urge to shrug her off. “You say that a lot.”
“I mean it this time,” I say. “Haven’t been feeling great lately.”
Nolan chuckles. “You’ll live. Don’t start getting weak on me now.”
Adriana shoots him a look, but it’s gone as fast as it came. Then she turns back to me, smile soft, voice sweet. “You boys have been very good about staying out of the press. Thank you.”
I give her exactly what she wants. “I’m not giving up the money and fame. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Nolan watches me a beat too long, that nasty grin still carved into his face. “Good. Keep it up, kid. You’re an incredible talent. Both of you.”
When they finally leave, I sigh.
Micah drops his head back against the wall. “Man. I hate them. I don’t know how you manage sucking up to them like that.”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “It’s really fucking difficult. They’re not stupid, though. They know that’s all I’m doing.”
He looks at me, his eyes already dulling with resignation. “You gonna—?”
“Yeah,” I cut him off.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
This isn’t about craving anymore. Not even close. This is survival—or maybe just the cruel imitation of it. My body screams for the chemicals, pulse hammering in my temples, thrumming in my throat, pounding in my chest. Every beat is too loud, like my insides are trying to claw their way out.
I set the pills aside, fingers shaking, and reach for my case instead. Micah’s eyes lock onto the heroin as I pull it out, tracking every movement like a predator watching prey. My mind protests, frantic and useless. My body doesn’t care. It’s not listening.
It needs this.
When the needle sinks into my arm, the world detonates. Heat floods me, white-hot relief tearing through my veins. My head falls back, a groan slipping out before I can stop it. Micah says something, but his voice is already fading.
The walls breathe again. Expanding. Contracting. No longer closing in. The TV dissolves into static. Micah’s voice sinks underwater, echoing from somewhere far away. And me?
I’m nowhere.
Just a single heartbeat, floating in the thin, empty space between guilt and relief.
A couple of hours have passed since I had a needle in my arm.
The heroin is still blurring my world, but not so much that I need to lie down.
The drive to the clinic is quiet except for the low hum of the radio.
Emma keeps her hands folded in her lap, her thumb brushing against the inside of her wrist like she’s keeping herself calm.
I keep my eyes on the road, counting the traffic lights.
My stomach feels like it’s full of heavy ass lead.
I wonder if she can tell I’m high right now. Probably, knowing her.
When we pull into the parking lot, she looks over at me and smiles. “You’re doing the right thing, Jude.”
I nod, but it’s a weak one as I pull my hood up. “I hate this. I never worried about this shit before. I...I don’t give a damn about Adriana. And I never exactly cared what happened to me.”
She tenses. “I know.”
We walk inside, and I loathe that I’m shaking. A woman behind the desk hands me a clipboard. Every question feels like a mirror I don’t want to look into. I sign where I have to and hand it back before I can think too much about it, not making eye contact with anyone.
Emma walks up after me to speak with the woman.
I can’t hear what she’s saying. Then she sits beside me, close enough that our knees touch.
She doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets me breathe.
The silence isn’t awkward. It’s grounding.
When my leg starts bouncing, she reaches over and stills it with her hand.
“Hey,” she says quietly, “your result should be in by the end of the day. I told them to rush it. And to use a different name when they call you. Um, Nathan.”
I can’t meet her eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“This doesn’t define you, you know. None of it does.”
“I know that.”
The nurse calls my fake name, and I stand, my pulse hammering in my ears. Emma walks beside me, her steps steady, her voice calm as she talks to the nurse like it’s just another routine appointment. I try to cling to her composure, but it feels impossible since I’m definitely not calm.
The nurse gestures for me to sit, and I do, rolling up my sleeve without a word.
Her eyes flick to my arm, and for a moment, her professional mask slips.
Her gaze lingers on the jagged marks and bruises that trail along the inside of my elbow.
Track marks. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression tightens, and I feel the weight of her judgment like a punch to the chest.
Emma notices too. I know that because I can hear her sharp intake of breath. When I do look at her, her eyes widen. She looks...stunned. Like she’s seeing me for the first time in this shitty life of mine.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she finally takes my hand.
I squeeze it hard, desperate for something to ground me.
My throat burns, and I’m not sure if it’s from the needle piercing my skin or the shame coiling tight in my gut.
Crazy how the moment I feel a needle, my body wants to believe it’s the high.
The nurse finishes quickly, and Emma thanks her for me because I can’t get the words out. My tongue feels heavy, and I’m wildly uncomfortable. I hate existing in my own skin as this person.
We walk outside, and the sunlight hits me in the face. I squint against it, my head pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat.
“You did it,” Emma says softly, but there’s something strained in her voice now.
I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Guess I did.”
She stops walking, turning to face me. Her eyes are searching, and I can’t meet them. “Jude…” she starts, her voice low and careful. “Your arm…”
My stomach lurches. I knew this was coming. I shove my hands into my pockets, staring at the ground.
“I didn’t know you were...I guess I didn’t think that...” she stutters.
“Obviously, I’m injecting, Emma. It’s been seven fucking years of drugs.” My voice is loud, and she flinches.
She reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm where the marks are hidden beneath my sleeve. “Talk to me,” she pleads, her voice firm. “Please.”
I close my eyes, feeling her fear, her disappointment.
It’s too much.
My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms as something hot and violent rears up in my chest before I can stop it.
Don’t. Don’t look at me like that.
You have no fucking idea what I’ve survived.
No, I don’t want to talk about it.
I force my hands to loosen, drag in a breath, shove it back down. “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper finally.
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she exhales slowly and nods. “Okay.”
I nod, and we start walking again. “I appreciate you for helping me with this.”
She nudges my shoulder. “You’re important to me. Of course. So do you wanna come over for dinner? Heather will be there. Bring Micah?”
My shoulders relax a little. “We’ll see you tonight. Text me the time.”