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I didn’t say a word as she stood there staring, just kept chopping mushrooms, and she stepped closer, coming to rest against the counter I was working at.
“I have temporal lobe epilepsy,” she said. “It’s weird and it’s horrible and it means my brain screws up and goes blank and I can’t understand what anyone is saying.”
I didn’t stop chopping, but raised my eyes to hers. “How often do you have the seizures?”
She shrugged and tipped her head. “How long is a piece of string? They are trying to control them with lamotrigine, but they’ve been on and off for years. Sometimes hardly any for months, other times they are every few days.”
“And what starts them?”
She let out a sad little laugh. “If only I knew I’d avoid it. Could be anything. Foods, lights, stress, lack of sleep. A whole barrel of them mashed together. The brain can be a fickle bitch.”
“Don’t I know it.” I paused. “What happens when you have one? What can I do to help?”
Another shrug. “Just be there.” Another pause. “People panic and try to get me an ambulance, or a doctor, or lecture me on what I may have done to bring one on.”
“An ambulance and a doctor don’t make any difference?”
She shook her head and brushed some hair behind her ear. “No. No difference. And I’m panicked enough without everyone else doing it around me. Makes it worse.”
“Ok. So calm and support is what you need?”
“It’s not your place to have to worry about it,” she said, but her eyes were heavy. So much unspoken.
We both knew that statement was a pile of shit.
We both knew I’d be worrying plenty about it.
I don’t know who moved first, but the knife dropped from my hand with a clank and the mushrooms scattered from the chopping board. I reached for her and she reached for me, lips open and crashing hard.
The throw dropped from her shoulders, and her arms wrapped around mine. My fingers took her hair and held her tight.
“Stay with me for the weekend,” I managed between kisses.
“We both already know I’m going to,” she breathed back.
Yes.
Yes, we fucking did.
I lifted her up onto the counter, her arms still wrapped around my shoulders. She laughed as her butt squished the mushrooms and I laughed right back.
But it was us.
We were there. We were right.
We were everything.
“This is going to be a disaster,” she said. “People will never let me do this. Not in a million years.”
“People can fuck right off, I’m done with trying to please them,” I said, and kissed her hard.
She hooked her feet behind my back and pressed up tight to my chest, both of us straining for contact. I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d been in a drought of closeness for so long I’d forgotten just how desperate I was for a taste. Every scrap of me was screaming for every scrap of her.
“I can’t stop this,” she whispered. “I can’t stop wanting you. I must be fucking crazy for it, but I can’t stop.”
“Then be fucking crazy,” I said.
“Like I’ve got a choice.”
“Like I’ve got one either.”
Her mouth was wet and hungry. Mine was starving.
Her fingers were shaky on my shirt buttons. Mine were a frenzy on her blouse.
I tore her skirt down her thighs, and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter.
She yanked my tie and tugged my face down to her chest. Fuck yes, I wanted that.
I ate those pretty little tits through her bra, teeth nipping hard, and she moaned like the dirty bitch she’d always been.
“Yes,” she hissed. “More. Give me more! Like that!”
But I was wary. That niggle of concern in the back of my mind bleated loud enough to be heard.
I pulled away, forcing some hint of composure.
“Should you be getting more rest? Are you well enough for this?”
“Yes!” she snapped. “Yes, I’m well enough for this. My brain works plenty well enough to know what the hell I’m well enough for, thank you. I’m always saying the same damn thing.”
Oh, there was challenge in it. Defiance. The need to be heard.
Fuck, my heart was beating to the same tune. Fuck, I’d spent years wanting my voice to count for something.
I heard her plenty loud and clear.
And I sure as fuck didn’t need telling twice.Chapter FifteenAnnaIt was beautiful madness and I needed every bit of it.
He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t wrapping me up in cotton wool and telling me just how careful I should be with every little thing.
He was rough.
Fierce.
Craving for more of me just as I was craving for him.
And he was absolutely fucking incredible.
He bit and sucked at my tits until I squealed and shuddered, his fingers teasing my clit just right through my knickers. I was a mess on that kitchen counter, hands crushing mushrooms as I gripped for balance, and just as I thought I was gaining it, he had me rippling a whole lot harder.
