Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kip
I want to lay into her about how stupid she was, about how she almost got herself killed, but I can’t. I can’t even take my eyes off her, or I’m afraid she’ll disappear. I keep glancing over at her while I drive.
She’s holding my hand, not saying a word.
When I pull up in front of the house, I turn to her and say, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I feel those words in every part of my body.
The agents pull up beside us. They take a few minutes to make sure the house is secure and then motion for us to go inside.
The two agents stand like guards on the front porch, nodding silently to me as we pass through the front door.
When we’re inside, I take her hand and examine the marks on her arms where she was tied up.
Her cast is gone. I wonder how long it’s been off.
I press my lips to each wrist. She looks up at me with those big, pleading eyes.
I want to fix all her problems. I want to make sure no one ever hurts her again.
I examine her face. One side is swollen and bruised. “He hit you?”
She just nods, and her eyes start to water.
“Fuck.” I slide my hands around the back of her neck and let my fingers rest in her hair.
“Not the first time he hit me.”
There’s so much rage in my body right now. “If he weren’t dead, I’d kill him.”
“I know.” She leans her head forward and rests it on my shoulder and then she says, “How did you find me?”
“Your brother.”
She pulls back. There’s a line between her brow. “He got an alert that you’d flown to Alaska, and then he got your text. He traced your phone. Wasn’t too hard for him to guess where you were going. Your brother called Hawk. He figured Hawk could get there the fastest. Hawk called me on the way.”
She exhales softly. “I should have called someone. He said he would kill them if I didn’t come alone. I couldn’t leave them in danger.”
“I know,” I say as I stroke her hair.
“I still didn’t find them.”
“But they aren’t with him anymore.”
She doesn’t move for a few minutes.
“What do you need?” I whisper.
She looks up at me with those big sad eyes and says, “Make me feel something other than what I'm feeling.”
I don’t move.
“Please Kip, I can’t feel this way any longer. I need to feel something different. Make me forget.”
She’s asking a lot considering how we parted. Of course, I want to be with her. I want nothing more than to be with her, but I know I can’t just be with her once.
I won’t think about that right now.
“Let’s go to bed,” I say, leading her down the hallway.
It’s different this time. I take my time.
I want her to feel how much I’ve missed her.
I want her to feel how much she means to me.
I savor every moment, exploring her body, touching every part of her.
I try not to think what any of this means - if it means anything at all.
When I bury myself inside her, I know I’m home. We’re both home.
After we finish, I don’t pull out. Her eyes are closed, and a tear escapes out the side. I brush it away.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She nods, eyes still closed. Another tear falls.
I lean forward and kiss it. Her body starts to shake. I can feel it everywhere. I start to pull out.
“No, don't.” She grabs my arms, her fingers digging into my skin. “Please. Just stay.”
I lean forward and kiss her forehead and both of her cheeks. I’ll stay here forever if she needs.
The next morning, I wake up before she does. She’s sleeping on my chest. We’re both naked. Her skin feels so good against mine. I can’t imagine waking up any other way again. When she starts to stir, I kiss the top of her head.
“Want me to get you breakfast?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“No?” I’m surprised. I’m starving.
“I just want you.” She presses her lips to mine, and we sink under together. The only time we leave the bed the entire day is to take a shower together where she bends over and begs me to take her from behind.
We don’t eat. We don’t talk to anyone. We hardly talk to each other. We’re just communicating with our bodies. Nothing more.
The sun is setting. “I think I’m dehydrated,” I whisper.
She laughs.
“Is it possible to fuck yourself to death?’
“Looks like we’re going to find out,” I reply.
She grins and shakes her head. “I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
She slips into a robe, and I pull on some pants.
“I have some leftovers,” I call.
She checks her phone. “I have like four hundred unanswered texts.”
She sets her phone down and sighs. “Leftovers sound great.”
I busy myself getting food together. She sits at the kitchen counter and starts answering texts. “My siblings are freaking out,” she mutters.
“Understandably.”
She smiles tightly. I set a plate in front of her, but she doesn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You think they’re even alive?”
I run my hands through my hair. “Your mom and sister?”
She nods.
“I hope.”
“But they might not be.” She rubs her forehead.
“It’s possible, but you can’t think about that right now.” I rub her back. She finally picks up a fork and starts eating, and I sit beside her and do the same.