Chapter Nine
Havoc
I’ve been up half the night thinking about what could have happened on the couch last night, wishing like hell I had let it happen.
It wouldn’t have taken much for me to have her clothes off, legs open, and my still-hard cock buried deep inside her body.
I wanted it so bad I could taste it, can still taste it this morning.
However, I know if I had sampled it, I’d have a foul taste in my mouth on what would be the morning after.
I wouldn’t respect myself very much, and I’ve worked hard to be a guy I can at least respect.
When the two of us finally seal the deal, I want it to be because we’re crazy with passion and feelings, not because I’ve had a close call and she’s reacting to the clues I’m giving her.
I want it to be organic. Hell, maybe last night was organic, I don’t know, but I don’t want her to ever feel pressured.
Unfortunately, the part of my personality that was a good guy last night and is trying to talk the bastard I feel like this morning down, is super pissed off at himself right now.
I’ve tossed and turned, seen every hour on the clock, and I’m cursing my good guy self right now for not being the selfish asshole I wanted to be last night.
Rolling over, I face Leighton, looking at her in a way I only ever get to when she’s asleep.
I spend a good portion of my time watching her when she doesn’t think I am.
Kinda makes me feel like a creeper, but she makes me feel too much shit.
Emotions I thought I had a lock on, things I never thought I’d feel again.
I’m not comfortable letting her in on those feelings yet, because I’m not sure of the future.
Whoever is sure of the future? That’s what you’re thinking, I know, but I’d like to know we have one before I go completely all in with her.
There’s still a chance I could be a fucking chump and she could stab me in the back.
She’s still not been honest with me about what her family’s done.
Can’t say that I blame her, but one day she’ll trust me enough to tell me, and then I’ll have to decide what I want to do; betray her or the job. I’m not anxious for that day to come.
Instead, I let my eyes take her in again and forget all the fucked-up parts of the lives we’re living right now.
In sleep, she has the innocence of a teenager.
The things she’s seen don’t cloud her eyes and they don’t make her frown or grimace with some unknown memory plaguing her.
She doesn’t turn a corner to avoid a family member at the grocery.
In sleep, she has no worries, is beautiful in her tranquility.
It’s the kind of serenity I want to put on her face, the level of comfort I want her to have with me.
I roll over onto my back and close my eyes, hoping and praying that someday what we have can be the real thing, not because it benefits us both and not because she’s scared of her family.
But because we both want it so bad we can no longer deny the feelings between us.
What I want is real, and I think she does too, but we’ve gotta cut through the shit first.