Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Marley
I stood frozen in the living room, staring at the spot where Kelechi had been just seconds ago. The silence pressed against my eardrums until it actually hurt. A door clicked shut somewhere down the hall.
My hand dragged through my hair as I paced to the window and back. I’d really fucked this up. I’d taken the most beautiful moment we’d shared and poisoned it with my own fear.
The second she’d asked about settling down, about having a wife and kids, panic had clawed up my throat.
Because sitting there with her legs draped across my lap, breathing in her scent, I could picture it.
All of it. Waking up next to her, making coffee together, arguing about whose turn it was to do dishes, and building something real and lasting and beautiful.
And that terrified me more than anything.
So I’d done what I always did when things got too real, too close. I’d pushed. I’d reminded both of us why this couldn’t work, why she’d leave eventually anyway. Better to rip the bandage off now than wait for the inevitable disappointment.
Except for the look on her face when I’d mentioned her soon-to-be fiancé.
Christ. It looked like I had physically struck her.
Verdammt, I was such a coward.
I moved toward the bedroom, then stopped outside the bathroom door.
Soft, broken sounds leaked through the wood, making my chest cave in.
She was crying, and it was all because of me.
Because I’d been too scared to just stay in that moment with her, too afraid to believe that maybe, for once, someone apart from my best friend and family might actually choose me.
I pressed my palm against the door, wishing I could rewind the last ten minutes. Wishing I could go back to her hands in my sweater, her lips against mine, the way she had looked at me.
“K?” My voice came out rough.
There was no answer, just those quiet sobs that were tearing me apart.
I knocked gently. “Princess?” I knocked again. “Can we talk?”
Still nothing.
I rested my forehead against the cool wood and shut my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean…” My voice cracked. “Schei?e, I never meant to hurt you like that.”
The crying slowed, then stopped, but she still didn’t respond.
There was a little movement then, soft footsteps on the bathroom tile.
“I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I made you cry, and I hate that I took something beautiful and ruined it because I’m too chickenshit to…” I paused.
More movement, closer to the door now.
“Please, princess, just let me see you. Let me try to fix this.”
A long moment passed before I heard the soft click of the lock turning.
The door opened slowly, and there she was. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, tears still clinging to her lashes, her arms wrapped around herself like she was holding herself together.
“Babe,” I breathed, and without thinking, I reached for her.
She didn’t pull away. She let me cup her face in my hands, let me brush away the fresh tears with my thumbs. Her skin was damp, and I could feel her trembling.
“I never wanted to make you cry,” I whispered, searching her eyes. “Never.”
She looked up at me, and I saw something in her eyes. It was as if she could see past my walls to the scared, stupid woman underneath who destroyed everything good that came into her life.
“I know,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tears. “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I just…” She paused. “It… it hurt.”
“Sshhh… hey.”
“Hey,” she answered softly.
“I am sorry. Tell me how to make it up to you. I promise I will.”
She was quiet for a moment, studying my face with those dark eyes that captivated me. Then, so softly I almost missed it:
“Come in. Let’s shower together, wash this day off.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough with relief. “Yeah. Whatever you need.”
She reached up and covered one of my hands with hers, pressing it more firmly against her cheek.
I closed my eyes, feeling something crack open in my chest. When I opened them again, she was still there, still looking at me.
She stepped back into the bathroom, and I hesitated for a second before following.
She reached for the shower handle, turning the water on. Steam began to rise as she glanced at me.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. We had never showered together. Hell, I’d never showered with anyone before in my life. This felt more intimate than anything I’d ever done, but I couldn’t tell her that.
She pulled her sweater over her head, and I found myself staring at her body, at the stretch marks that mapped her skin like silver rivers, before forcing myself to look away.
I stripped off my sweater, hyper-aware of her eyes on me. When we were both undressed, she stepped under the spray first, and I followed.
The water was almost too hot, but neither of us adjusted it.
She reached for the shampoo without asking, working it through my hair with her fingers.
“You don’t have to…” I started, but she shook her head.
“I want to.”
I closed my eyes and let her work, trying to ignore the way my pulse jumped every time her nails scraped lightly against my scalp. This was just Kelechi washing my hair, right? Nothing more. But my heart was threatening to burst out of my chest, my nerves wrecking havoc on my breathing.
When she tipped my head back to rinse, I opened my eyes and caught her looking at me with that quiet, unreadable look she got sometimes.
I grabbed the bar soap and returned the favour as I ran it along her body, over her shoulders, her back, her breasts, and the familiar curves I already knew by memory.
She leaned into my touch, and I felt that familiar tightness in my chest that I’d been ignoring for weeks now. The one that showed up whenever she laughed at my jokes, or fell asleep against my shoulder during movies, or looked at me like she was seeing something no one else ever had.
“Turn around,” I said, more gruffly than I intended.
She did, and I let my hands explore the curve of her back, the swell of her hips. She gasped when my fingers found sensitive spots, and the sound shot straight through me.
“Marley,” she said quietly, and when I looked down, she tilted her head back to meet my eyes. Water ran down her face, and I couldn’t tell if there were still tears mixed in.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing,” she said after a moment. “Just… nothing.”
But the way she was looking at me didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like everything we couldn’t say.
When the water started running lukewarm, I turned it off. We dried off in relative silence, and I tried not to think about how natural this felt, how right. How much I wanted to do this every night for the rest of my life.
Fuck.
We moved to the bedroom, and she climbed into bed first and held the covers open for me.
I slipped in beside her, and she curled into my side.
“Better?” I asked, my voice carefully neutral.
She nodded against my bare chest. “Yeah. Better.”
But as I wrapped my arms around her and listened to her breathing even out in the dark, I knew nothing about this was simple anymore.
If it ever had been.
“Merry Christmas, babe,” Kelechi’s voice drifted into my head. Kisses followed right after, trailing across my cheek, down my neck, then over my breast.
Briefly, I thought I was still dreaming, until I felt her hand cup my bare pussy. My hips lifted on instinct, my thighs falling open as a groan ripped from me.
“Fuck,” I moaned, arching into her palm.
The boldness in her touch made my chest clench with something heavier than lust. This was my shy girl, the one who hid behind blushing cheeks and smart retorts, now waking me with her hand between my legs.
“You’re naughty,” I whispered, eyes flicking open to find her grinning.
“I am a fast learner,” she murmured, pressing her lips to my nipple before rolling it gently with her tongue. Her fingers rubbed tentative circles over my clit, shy in motion but brave in intent.
Pleasure tightened low in my belly, but I forced myself to stay still, to guide her instead of taking control. Too many times, lovers had forgotten me, treated my body like an afterthought. But not her. Not this girl.
She was watching me, learning.
I caught her wrist lightly. “Slower,” I said, my voice sounding unrecognisable in my ears. “Feel me, don’t just rush it.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, wide but eager, and she nodded. She dragged her fingers lower, parting my folds, exploring my every reaction. When one finger slipped inside my slick heat, my breath punched out of my lungs as my hips jerked instinctively.
“Like this?” she whispered.
“Yeah, baby. Just like that… fuck… slide it in deeper.”
Her tongue licked over my breast again as she eased her finger inside me, hesitating before pushing in all the way.
A groan tore from my throat. “Fuck, yes. That’s it. Curl it a little… umm… right there.”
The determination on her face nearly undid me because I could see that she wanted to learn every inch of me, wanted to see me unravel for her. When she slipped a second finger in, my thighs trembled around her hand.
“You feel so tight around me,” she breathed, her voice tinged with awe. “Gosh… you’re so responsive, Marley. Every time my fingers push in further, you’re gripping and still letting go at the same time… it’s like your body can’t make a decision.”
“You’re going to make me come before you even get to the good part,” I groaned. “God, Kelechi… fuck… you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
Her smile was shy, proud, and wicked at the same time. She slid down my body, kissing lower, until her breath fanned hot against my pussy. I froze, my pulse hammering.
“K…?”
She looked up, mischief flickering in her eyes.
“Let’s just say,” she murmured, “my training was… thorough.”
Before I could form a coherent response, her tongue pressed against my clit, softly at first, then bolder when my hips rose into her face. My hand tangled in her hair, tugging her closer.