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There’s a light brush of kisses littered up my neck, fingernails digging into my shoulder not to hurt me but to ground himself.
“You took more of me. And I gave it to you. Because I can’t stop myself from wanting you.” Hot, heavy breaths blow across my ear, and then his head is on my shoulder, face buried in my neck.
“I want you. All of you. Not just the sex and the domination. I want to watch awful horror games together. I want to teach you to skate. I want to find myself again. The man they butchered and buried. I want to find him with you.”
It’s far too cold and far too public for such an intimate moment. I drag him into the house with no protest and guide him up the stairs without so much as a word.
It’s only when I let him into a room does he pause in the doorway wringing his hands together.
“Where are the kids?”
“Gone,” I say with a smile, pulling him further into the room and shutting the door to give us privacy. “They all went home.”
He gulps heavily as his eyes dart around the room. “Then why are you here?”
I take a seat on the Queen sized bed—bigger than the ones on campus—and pat a spot for Shiloh to join me. He does so slowly, perching awkwardly on the edge until I grab him by the waist and move him next to me.
“There was an incident at Clarke’s foster home when they went back. They needed emergency placement, and the Grenshaw’s offered. They weren’t prepared for full time placement, so I stayed to help them get squared away.”
“And you fell in love with the fostering process?” he jokes with a strained but well humored laugh.
I take his face in one of my hands and tilt it towards me. “It kept my mind off missing you. Having someone to take care of.”
His eyes start to get misty, so I smile and wipe at the corners. “Are you ready for me, sweetheart? Ready for me to love you?”
My heart feels like an overfilled balloon as Shiloh presses his face into my hand and breathes in deep.
“I’m ready to try.”
He grapples at my shoulders then, climbing into my lap and wrapping around me. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I rest my hands on his hips and tip my head back to meet the kiss he offers. It’s a ghost of a touch, but it feels like a veil lifting between us.
“For punishing you when I really wanted to punish myself.”
It’s not hard, but I smack my palm on the side of his thigh and smirk when he squirms and presses in closer.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. We’ve got time to work on that self-loathing you’ve got. I can dole out punishments in the meantime.”
Shiloh shudders, and his eyes have taken on that slightly hazy gaze that comes when he gives up control.
“Can I have one now?” He asks, breathless as he presses his nose to my throat.
“What have you done to deserve it?” I chuckle as his nuzzling touch shifts to peppered kisses along my jaw.
“I ran. I hurt you.”
“And what kind of punishment do you think you deserve?”
His fingers wrap around the back of my neck, and his lips leave a dark purple bruise on my collarbone.
“One that reminds me where I belong.”
“And where’s that?”
When he pulls back to show me that devilish smirk and mirthful eyes, I know I’m staring down my firecracker. The man who puts up a fight but who wants for more than anything to lose.
To hurt not only because the pain I inflict heals him, but because it’s just fucking fun.
