24. KAI #2
“Ava, you need rest.”
"No, I need my boyfriend to touch me like he means it."
The way she says it pulls at something low in my stomach. Her voice is raw and direct and stripped of every wall she usually keeps between us.
My hands slide down from the top of her spine, thumbs tracing the grooves between muscle and bone.
But this time, they’re softer and slower. My fingers spread across her ribs and trace under her breasts.
She moans. “Yes.”
They glide down her sides, tracing the curve where her waist narrows and her hips flare. I touch her buttcheeks. Squeezing. Caressing.
Her breathing changes. She grinds her hips on the bed.
My hands go to her warm thighs. I massage the inner muscles, working higher, my thumbs brushing closer to the heat between her legs with each slow pass.
A soft sound leaves her mouth. "I want your fingers inside me."
I slide my hand between her thighs from behind. She's soaked, hot and slick against my fingertips. I run two fingers along the full length of her and her hips press back into my hand.
I ease one finger inside her. She clenches around it, tight, her whole body responding.
I keep it slow. Curl forward. Find the swollen ridge at the front and press.
"Oh." She breathes the word into the pillow. Her fists twist the sheets. "More."
I put in a second finger.
She rocks back against me, her body trying to set a pace I won't let her have yet. I use my other hand flat on the small of her back, holding her steady, controlling the rhythm.
I fuck her slowly with my fingers. Deep. Deliberate. Each stroke curling against that spot until her thighs start to shake.
"Harder. Please."
My fingers push deeper, firmer, the pressure steady and relentless. The sound she makes is high and cracked.
"Turn over. I want to see you."
She rolls onto her back. Her eyes are heavy, pupils blown wide, lips parted. She looks wrecked and wanting.
The combination makes my blood run thick.
I settle between her legs, my hands sliding along her legs.
Her fingers grip my forearm. "Kai. Please."
I slide my fingers back inside her. Two.
She gasps.
I build the pace again, curling against the front wall with steady pressure while my thumb finds her clit and works it in slow, firm circles.
"Like that," she whispers. "Just like that."
I hold the rhythm. Same angle. Same pressure.
Her nails dig into my forearm. "Another finger. Give me another."
I slide a third finger inside her and she takes a sharp breath, her head pressing back into the pillow, her neck stretching long. I stretch her slowly, letting her adjust, then resume the rhythm. Inside and out. My thumb circling her clit. Her thighs shaking against my wrist.
"Don't stop. Right there, Kai, don't stop."
Her stomach muscles clench under the shirt. Her mouth opens. Her hips grind down against my hand, chasing it, matching the rhythm I'm setting.
The sounds coming out of her are not words anymore. Just breath and noise and my name breaking apart between her teeth.
"Let go," I tell her. "I've got you."
The orgasm rolls through her like a wave pulling under. Her walls grip my fingers in tight, pulsing contractions. Her eyes squeeze shut as her body clenches and releases in long, hard spasms.
I keep fucking her with my hand through every contraction, every aftershock, my thumb slowing but not stopping, easing her down. Her grip on my forearm loosens finger by finger until her hands fall open on the sheets and she goes limp.
“Stay with me.”
"I'm not going anywhere."
Her breathing evens out in seconds. I pull my fingers out gently. Her thighs twitch at the withdrawal. By the time I've pulled the covers over her legs, she's already drifting into sleep.
I wash my hands in her bathroom, avoid my reflection, and climb into bed beside her.
The house goes quiet.
I watch her face in the low light. Chestnut hair fanned across the pillow. That faint downturn of her mouth, even in sleep.
I lean my head back against the headboard and stare at the ceiling.
I just bathed a woman who won't tell me why she needed a blood transfusion. Made her food. Washed her back while my jaw ached from biting down on everything I wanted to say. Then made her come, satisfying her thoroughly.
And I would do it all again. Every single night. For as long as she'd let me.
There’s no other way to say it.
I'm in love with Ava Hartley.
I laugh bitterly. I fucking love this woman, yet she doesn’t trust me enough to take care of her.
That might be the thing that breaks us.
The worst part is I don’t know what to do about it.
I settle onto my back, careful not to disturb her. If Ava needs me tonight, I want to be right here. Her breathing is steady beside me, even and deep, and I let the sound of it pull me under.
When I open my eyes, the light through the curtains is pale grey. Morning. Ava hasn't moved. The color is back in her face. Her lips are parted, her breathing deep.
I ease out of the bed and write on the notepad beside her bed:
Call me when you're up.
Biscuit has found her way back to Ava’s shin. She lifts her head, watches me pass with her ears flat.
"Watch her for me, Biscuit."
She lays her chin back on Ava's ankle.
I open the front door and step onto the porch.
A woman is walking up the path. She's Ava's height, same chestnut hair, but sharper everywhere else. Her stride is deliberate and clipped. Her arms are already crossed and she hasn't reached the porch yet.
Lucy Hartley.
The twin.
But where Ava's face invites you in, Lucy's stops you at the door.
She stops at the bottom of the porch steps. Her eyes sweep over my wrinkled clothes, the keys in my hand.
"You're Kai."
"Yes."
She eyes me from head to toe. "So you're the boyfriend."
I nod, one eyebrow raised.
"Good." She climbs the steps. "Then I don't have to waste time being polite."
When she’s very close, she places her arms akimbo. She lifts her chin, scowling.
“My sister has been going through hell. Where have you been?”
“I…” I stop. What’s she talking about? “I’ve been here.”
“Yeah, right.” Her right index finger jabs my chest. “Ava deserves a man who shows up when and where she needs him. Not after. Not when it’s convenient. Not whenever you choose to.”
“Look…um…Lucy, I don’t know where you got the notion that…”
The jab becomes harder. “Not a man who values hockey more than her life.”
My mouth shuts. I try to rake up any memory where I valued hockey more than Ava, even if it’s from before the amnesia.
None comes to mind.
But what if that actually happened?
"When it actually counts, you’re not there. Leave her alone, Kai. You're not what she needs."
"You don't know me," I stutter.
I don’t know myself fully either. Can’t bring up any memory of Ava before the memory loss.
Lucy lifts her chin, walks to the door, then bangs it after she steps in.
I stand on Ava's porch staring at that front door.
When it actually counts, you're not there.
She said it like a fact. Not an accusation she needed me to answer. A fact she'd already weighed and confirmed.
I think about Ava. Every time she changed the subject when I pushed too close. Every time her eyes went somewhere I couldn't follow and she came back with a smile that didn't quite reach.
Something is wrong. Not just the transfusion. Something bigger that she's been carrying alone for longer than today.
And I don't know what it is.
Her sister looked at me like a man who already failed.
Maybe there’s something bad I did.
Whatever I did to earn Ava’s distrust and Lucy’s anger, I might deserve it.