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Then, he brings his mouth back to mine, forcibly kissing me before sucking my bottom lip between his teeth and biting until I whimper in pain.
Yes. More.
As I’m gasping for air, I mutter with need, “Again.”
This time, his teeth clench around my jaw. And then my neck and my shoulder.
Every time he brings me to the brink of pain, I feel my blood grow hotter and my heart beat faster. And suddenly, I’m not trying to blink out the world, but I’m rushing headfirst toward him.
I almost don’t register that my cock is now hard until my hips rut of their own volition against Caleb’s.
“Let’s slow down,” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t want to slow down. I desperately want to keep going. But I don’t feel like myself at the moment. My head is a mess. So when he pulls away, I let him.
Shutting my eyes, I force my brain to focus on nothing as he lathers up my hair and rubs soapy bubbles all over my body, running the washcloth under the pits of my arms and between the crack of my ass. My cock begins to deflate, and I slip back into a mentality of nonexistence again.
I’m not here. I’m nowhere.
When he finishes rinsing my body, he goes to turn off the water, but I stop him. “Please,” I croak, sounding pathetic and helpless.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“I need you,” I reply, hearing my voice crack.
He closes the distance between us, holding my face in his hands. Caleb’s eyes are so genuine. They don’t hide secrets or lies. They are as real and as pure as his soul. It’s why he keeps them so guarded. And why it feels like such a gift when he lets me in.
“I’m here,” he replies. “You’ve got me. As much as you want.”
My heart aches as I run my hands over his hip bones, tugging him closer. “Just distract me.”
His expression turns sad as he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Come on.”
After turning the water off, he opens the shower door and reaches for the towel hanging on the hook. First, he wraps one around me, delicately drying my head and face, working down to my feet. Then he grabs another for himself and does the same, tying it around his hips when he’s done.
As I step out of the shower, Briar comes into the bathroom. I spot a folded pile of my clothes on the bathroom counter. She must have retrieved them for me from my apartment.
“You need some rest,” she says.
No. My mind refuses the idea of rest. Rest is not distracting enough. It’s too much free space in my head to think and feel.
When she opens her palm to reveal two blue gel pills, I glance up at her face. “They’ll help you sleep.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to sleep.”
Looking concerned, she closes her hand. “What do you need, Dean? Tell us what to do.”
I feel like a fool for what I’m about to say. Why is it so hard to be vulnerable? To ask people to take care of me. To expose my deepest, most personal wishes.
“I just want you two to be with me,” I say, my voice sounding so sad and lifeless. “Just fucking hold me.”
In a rush, Briar tosses the sleeping pills in the sink and wraps her arms around me. “You don’t ever have to ask for that.”
Stepping on her tiptoes, she presses her lips to mine, and I focus on nothing but her kiss. The softness of her lips. The hesitant way she licks into my mouth. The delicate friction of her tongue against mine.
It was only a week without them, but it was enough to leave a chasm of doubt in my heart. How could I think I could live without them? Was I really so stubborn I thought I could walk away from this?
Her kiss comes to an end, and she lightly peppers my jaw and then my chest with more. My grip on her arms turns desperate.
